


Emrys and the Red Knight

by ArcticPuzzle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Gen, Merlin and Arthur as medieval equivalents of superheroes, Merlin uses a disguise to fight monsters, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Secret Identity, So does Arthur, otherwise Uther wouldn't let them do it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticPuzzle/pseuds/ArcticPuzzle
Summary: When a Chimera threatens a village and his father refuses to let him face the monster, Arthur puts a red cloak on his shoulders and goes to face the monster anyway.When Merlin hears that a monster has been destroying farms and killing villagers, he puts on a black cloak and goes to take it down.They didn’t expect to meet each other. And they don’t even know who's under the other’s hood. Where would be the fun in that?Basically, a Camelot version of the good old ‘Daft Superheroes and their Stupid Secret Identity Shenanigans’ trope in a time of myth and a land of magic. With Arthur as the dashing knight, and Merlin as the fearsome sorcerer.Set just after the end of Season 1.(Edit: No Merthur planned)
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 194
Kudos: 320





	1. Chapter 1

The villager came to Uther on a bright Friday, during the open session in which everyone could come to the King and ask him for help with their problems. Apparently, there was a monster causing trouble to his village, Whitehold, and he had come to plea for royal help.

After hearing his recount of the mysterious events happening in Whitehold, Gaius addressed the King. “From the words of this man, I fear a chimera has settled in the lands of Whitehold, my Lord.”

“What is a chimera, Gaius?”

“It’s a creature of magic, my Lord. It has the body of a goat, but its head is that of a lion, and its tail is a venomous snake,” the physician explained. After a brief pause, he added: “They are masters of illusion, my Lord. They hide in the environment like no one else can.”

“Arthur.” Arthur had corrected his posture, certain the king would send him right away. His father’s next words surprised him. “Arrange for a patrol of twelve soldiers to be sent near Whitehold. Select your men carefully. I want the beast slain before next week.”

“Am I to… take part in this mission?” the prince asked with a burgeoning hope in his chest. Recently, the king had greatly restricted his missions out of the castle, and Arthur felt the need to leave these walls.

“Certainly not. Your place is in Camelot.”

Arthur had half a mind to protest, but he decided against it after seeing the king’s face.

A week later, when news came to Camelot that the patrol had been decimated, he felt a pang of guilt creep on his back. These men were dead by his fault. If he had been there… He pleaded again for his father to let him go to Whitehold himself and ‘deal with the beast’.

Wrong choice of words, apparently.

“Enough, Arthur!” the king yelled. “You are to stay in Camelot and that is final! Gaius said the chimera is a territorial creature. The villagers can move if they don’t want to stay, but you are not to leave the castle and fight the creature!”

“It is our duty to the people of Came…”

“It is _your_ duty as a _prince_ to do as your king says! I will not risk the life of my only heir to save a few peasants and their rotting crops, and that is _final_!”

The same night, Arthur dismissed Merlin early, not telling him about his plans for the night. He loved the man like the brother he never had, and he knew Merlin would be stupid enough to come face the Chimera with him. With only a worn jacket and a neckerchief, and his abysmal abilities with a sword to protect him. Sometimes his best friend was an idiot.

Of course, Arthur chastised himself for thinking this. Merlin was his _manservant_ , dammit. A prince doesn’t have friends, let alone servant friends. But when his conscience, which sounded suspiciously like Morgana, told him he was lying to himself, he sighed and admitted it. He would eat his own tongue before telling Merlin, but he had grown fond of the man.

Once the servant was gone, he opened his cupboard and took a bundle of red cloth he kept hidden at the bottom of the cupboard. Unfolding it, he admired the deep red of the fabric. The cloak was fit for a knight, very similar to the Pendragon red capes his men wore with their armour, and its hood obscured the face nicely. In the folds of the cloak, spare pieces of armour, unadorned but in good state, which he had carefully nicked from the armoury over the past few days. He had been sure something like this would happen, even if he hoped his father would finally see sense and let him go fight monsters and bandits again soon. The mess with the Questing Beast was probably too recent for that at the moment, and he suspected his father had been too scared of losing him to let him out of his sight again. The bite of the Questing Beast was supposed to be fatal. If Gaius hadn’t found this tincture in time… But the Chimera wouldn’t wait for his father to come to terms with the dangers Arthur had faced, and would face again, in his life as a knight of Camelot.

He had carefully removed all Camelot emblems from the ensemble. If his father ever learnt of this mission, he’d definitely lock Arthur in his chambers himself. Better to pretend to be a wandering knight, like those the bards praised in their songs. Even if the songs had only dubious credibility at best.

He readied himself and sneaked past the guards. He had carefully planned the patrols to leave him blind spots he’d use to slip through the town unnoticed.

Having left Camelot, he set out for Whitehold.

* * *

When Merlin had heard the king berate Arthur for trying to help people this afternoon, he had been touched by the prince’s pleas. These people were suffering, and he could help them. It might make Arthur happy, and maybe he wouldn’t throw so many things at Merlin’s head in the morning.

When Arthur dismissed him early this night, apparently still upset with his father, Merlin left the room without too many protests. He went back to Gaius’ chambers, where his guardian and mentor was waiting for him with a bowl of thick chicken broth. “Eat, Merlin. You’re thin as a twig, and twice as fragile.”

He ate the soup as fast as he could, which of course prompted Gaius to ask all the right (or rather, wrong) questions. “Merlin? It’s hard to determine whether you’re inhaling or eating your broth. Are you so tired you’re eager to go to bed, or are you planning to get out in the night to do something I will probably warn you against?”

Merlin tried to not look _too_ sheepish. “Well… I’m really tired, you see, Arthur had me running around the castle the whole day.”

Gaius looked at him in understanding. “Ah. I see.” He then raised his eyebrow, and Merlin remembered very distinctly his voice saying _‘And the truth, before I lose my temper?’_ a few months ago. His uncle didn’t say it out loud tonight, but it was still hanging in the air.

Sighing, he replied “I have to help these people, Gaius. If I don’t, the king will leave them to die.”

Gaius kept looking at him for a second, eyebrow raised in his signature expression of stern disapproval, before giving up. “Alright. I suppose I cannot stop you. But be careful, my boy. You know what would happen if anyone found out about your magic.”

Merlin went to his cupboard and took a cloak. He prepared to leave, when Gaius called him back. “Merlin!”

He turned on his heels.

“I think you should put a spell on your cloak. If anyone finds out, they could recognise it. Here,” he said, gesturing to Merlin’s magic book lying open on a table, “There’s a spell to change its color. Turn it black, it will be harder to spot you in the dark. You should also take your Sidhe staff. Chimeras have powerful magic.”

“Thank you, Gaius.”

“I still think you shouldn’t go. Lots of people know you, and if you’re seen using magic…”

To ease his mentor’s fears, Merlin read a few more pages of his book. He found the chapter on disguises. “Gaius! There’s a spell to change my voice, and another one to hide my face in shadows under a hood. If I use these, no one will be able to recognise me.”

Gaius read the details of the spells. “I see. Be careful, though. These spells won’t use up your magic, but they will dissolve if you’re asleep or unconscious.”

“I’m not going to sleep, Gaius,” Merlin sighed. “I’m not that stupid, despite what Arthur says.”

* * *

When Merlin arrived in Whitehold, he didn’t expect to find someone already there, fighting an almost invisible monster in a clearing close to the village. The chimera was fast and silent, and its presence was only betrayed by twigs snapping, leaves rustling, the sound of the air displaced by its swift movements, and a sort of glint in the air, that only hinted at its disguise. The man was wearing a plain-looking armour and a red cape with a hood on his helmet. The cape was Pendragon red, but missed the telltale golden dragon. This man wasn’t a knight of Camelot.

Merlin vaguely saw the creature attacking the fighter’s back. He yelled “Behind you!” and the warrior turned on his feet, raising his sword to parry the swipe of a large clawed paw at the last second. The man in red lifted his sword, but the creature had disappeared again.

He drew closer to the man. They would have better chances if they fought side by side, or back to back. No sneaky attacks from the creature this way. “Where is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” the man panted.

They turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of the chimera. From the corner of his eye, Merlin saw a few branches snap further in the woods. “It’s escaping! This way!”

The man in red panted a second, before darting after the creature. “Where? I can’t find it!”

After a few minutes of frantic searching, they had to give up. Merlin called the stranger. “Sir knight! It’s gone. Probably hiding. But it will be back out soon enough. It needs to eat, even more so after this fight. If we stay outdoors like this, we can serve as bait. The Chimera will surely be drawn to the light if we light a fire.”

The red knight answered “Right. Can you start a fire?”

Once the fire ready, they sat in silence. Eager to learn more about the mysterious knight, Merlin asked “Who are you?”

“I’m the only one with a sword. Who are _you_ , and what business do you have in this place?”

Merlin almost revealed his name, but remembered himself at the last second. “You can call me M… Emrys.” Luckily the druids had provided him with a secret identity. “I’m here to get rid of the Chimera. You didn’t tell me your name.”

The stranger hesitated. “I’d rather not tell you my name. Some people would be… angry to know I came here. Call me the Red Knight.”

“I’ll call you Red, then,” Merlin quipped.

“That’s not a name!”

“Well, now it’s your name.”

Red chuckled. “Alright. So what were you planning to do with your weird stick? Poke the Chimera to death?”

Merlin showed him the crossbow he had _borrowed_ from the armoury. “I’ve got better options.”

“Why didn’t you shoot it before then?”

“Well, it wasn’t loaded yet.”

“Why would you come to fight a chimera with an empty crossbow?”

“I didn’t expect _someone_ to disturb it before I arrived!”

The criticism seemed to take Red (oh, Merlin liked this nickname already) down a peg. “Right.”

“Where are you from? Whitehold?”

Red shook his head. “No, not really.”

Merlin eyed his new ally suspiciously. “Riiight. Tell me, Red…” But before he could investigate the background of the knight any further, a beastly grunt interrupted them.

Jumping on their feet, the two men turned around, trying to spot the chimera. Merlin could hear twigs snapping, gravel rumbling, and a swishing sound that could be the creature’s mane brushing against shrubs and leaves. The chimera was close, ready to attack.

Tension filled the air. Red yelled “On your left!”

From the corner of his eye, Merlin could see the air shimmering, like heat haze in summer. In the faint light of the campfire, the scene was surreal. He barely noticed that the shimmer was coming towards him at high speed. He barrelled out of the way, rolling on the ground.

The Red Knight yelled “Careful!” and tried to swing at the invisible creature with his sword, but missed it. The creature snarled. Red took a better stance and carefully moved towards the noise, pointing the tip of the blade forward in a threatening gesture. He lunged, and managed to land a blow. The creature shrieked and huffed. The shimmer surrounding it disappeared, replaced by dull grey fur. The creature had a wiry body with visible ribs and dense muscles. Its skin was stretched taut. The mane of its lion head was dirty, covered in leaves and dirt. It shook its head and bared its teeth, before lunging at Merlin once more.

Merlin dodged the blow and tried to think of a spell to get rid of it. He lifted his crossbow, trying to aim at the chimera. The bolt crossed the air above the creature.

Red tried a blow to the chimera’s side, only to see the sword rebound on the skin like it would on hard stone. The chimera’s hide was so taut that it behaved like a drum. Combined with its natural thickness, it meant inflicting more than simple scratches to the creature would be more difficult than expected.

Merlin saw the chimera fling its large claws at the Red Knight. The man was lifted from the ground and thrown against a tree. A loud clang resonated in the clearing when he fell to the ground, completely limp. The beast roared in victory, not paying attention to Merlin.

When it prepared itself to pounce on Red and kill him, Merlin aimed at its throat and shot a bolt, yelling “ _Bregdan anweald arewe!_ ”

The bolt crossed the air, glistening with the unmistakably magical blue flames, leaving a trail of blue light in the air. It embedded itself in the neck of the creature, burning it from the inside. The chimera yowled in pain and crumbled to the ground, dead.

Merlin huffed a pant in relief. He looked towards Red, to make sure the brave knight was safe, and saw, to his horror, that he was very much awake.

Beneath the helmet, the eyes were wide open. Red scrambled to his feet and yelled “You… You have magic!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin huffed a pant in relief. He looked towards Red, to make sure the brave knight was safe, and saw, to his horror, that he was very much awake. 
> 
> Beneath the helmet, the eyes were wide open. Red scrambled to his feet and yelled “You… You have magic!”

Damn. It. All. Merlin decided to play on the knight’s honor. “Well, yeah. And my magic just saved your life, remember?”

“Magic is evil. What business do you have here, in Camelot lands, _sorcerer_?”

“Nothing, I just…” Merlin tried to say.

“Don’t _lie to me_ ,” the Red Knight snarled. “Sorcerers always have an agenda. What do you want? What’s your goal? To kill the king? Destroy the kingdom?”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t think you can fool me, _sorcerer_. I know your kind and what they are capable of. Did you summon that beast?” the knight accused.

“No, of course not!” Merlin protested.

“Then what do you want from Camelot?! You and your kind are enemies of our kingdom!” Red growled.

“I just killed the chimera for Camelot, you could at least say thank you!” Merlin yelled.

“Thank you?! I should run you through where you stand, you…”

“Easy now. I know you’re a knight and all, but don’t you think you’re a bit exaggerating on the drama?” Hearing the Red Knight hiss in pain, Merlin asked “Wait, are you alright?”

“Don’t touch me, sorcerer!”

“Not a chance if you’re acting like that. I’m rubbish at healing spells anyway.”

“Healing? Are you saying you wanted to _heal_ me?” Red scoffed. “I don't believe it. You know my injuries are the only reason I’m not going after you, don’t you?”

“Like you could kill me,” Merlin teased. Making fun of Red was almost as entertaining as making fun of Arthur. The only downside was that the knight had seen him use magic. But thanks to Gaius’ advice, he wouldn’t be able to identify Merlin.

Red winced from the pain. In a tired voice, he retorted “Oh, shut up, Em…” He never finished his sentence, falling unconscious on the forest floor.

Merlin waited a few seconds to see if his companion was only faking unconsciousness to lure him closer. Hearing him wheeze, he concluded Red wasn’t pretending, and came closer. He extended a hand above the knight’s head, and whispered “ _Gehæle!_ ”

He felt the rush of magic leave him and pour into the Red Knight’s body. No external injury was visible, the chimera’s claws hadn’t pierced through the man’s chainmail. The simple, generic healing spell he had cast was all Merlin could manage with his limited training in healing magic. He only remembered coming across this spell in his magic book one evening while leisurely flipping through the pages. He had lazily noted it, just in case, while reminding himself that he should try to develop his healing magic. The prat and his knights had a worrying tendency to find the deepest trouble around and fling themselves into it with wild abandon, and a healer could come in handy in dire situations. Like now.

Except, Merlin had no duty to protect the Red Knight. The man was apparently not a Knight of Camelot (he’d have known if Arthur had sent a mysterious knight to deal with the chimera) and he had threatened to run Merlin through. Still, they had fought together and vanquished the beast. He couldn’t leave him there to die, for the same reasons he had hoped the Red Knight wouldn't attack him.

Red was already stirring. Whatever had caused him to lose consciousness had apparently been somewhat healed by Merlin’s spell, as unexpected as it was. Merlin decided to leave Red to his own devices. He’d wake up soon and go on his way, and if Merlin was still around, the knight might be tempted to turn against him.

Silently, Merlin took the path to Camelot, using a spell to hide his tracks.

While walking, he wondered what he’d say to Gaius. On the one hand, he didn’t want to lie to his guardian. But on the other hand, if he ever told Gaius he had been seen using magic, the old man would most certainly forbid Merlin from ever using magic outside of his room again, destiny be damned. In the end, he decided not to mention Red at all. The knight couldn’t identify him anyway, and they would probably never meet again.

* * *

Arthur woke up with a warm feeling around him, as if he was wrapped in thick blankets by a cold winter night. Weird. It was certainly not winter yet. Or was it? He didn’t remember well. He shook his head to jog his memory. Sluggishly, the memories started trickling through the fog in his mind. The chimera… The claws that threw him against a tree… Emrys taking aim… Emrys’ magic…

Emrys’ magic.

He pried his eyes open and forced himself on his feet. The searing pain in his chest and ribs that had knocked him out was now completely gone, as was the throbbing in his sore muscles. He knew his head should have been in much more pain than it was.

Had Emrys healed him?

Impossible. As a known sorcerer, he couldn’t risk helping a knight who had just threatened to arrest him or kill him. Arthur had practically told him he’d kill him as soon as he was healed.

Where was he, then?

Turning around, Arthur didn’t find him. The sorcerer had probably left him to die here, then.

In the end, it was probably for the best. If he had been around, Arthur would've been forced to hunt him down and arrest him, then reveal what he had done to his father when coming back to Camelot.

Which reminded him that Emrys had been alone with an unconscious unknown knight for who knew how long. Arthur gingerly touched his gear, trying to determine if anything had been moved. Their position told him his hood and helmet had been left alone, so it was safe to assume Emrys hadn’t seen his face. The sorcerer had probably left as soon as Arthur had lost consciousness, making sure not to lose any second of time trying to identify him. A small blessing. At least his father wouldn’t confine him in his chambers when he arrested Emrys.

Still, he would have to do something about him. He couldn’t leave a sorcerer free to do whatever dark deeds he was up to. 

* * *

Despite the lack of sleep, Merlin woke up with the light of dawn, groaning in annoyance. He still had a job. Or two, since he was Gaius’ apprentice. Three, in fact, if secretly saving Arthur from threats (including himself) counted as a job. His life was going to be truly impossible if this Emrys-as-a-secret-sorcerer became a regular thing. Merlin sincerely hoped it wouldn’t.

In the meantime, he still wasn’t out of his bed.

Of course, Gaius immediately saw the huge bags under his eyes and commented: “How late did you come back last night?”

“Early this morning,” Merlin sighed.

“My boy. You really should be more careful. What will you do if Arthur notices you’re exhausted? And what if he needs you to complete more chores than usual?” Gaius asked.

“I don’t know…”

After a quick breakfast, Merlin left his mentor’s chambers to go to Arthur. The prince was especially difficult to rouse from his slumber this morning, and especially grumpy afterwards. He threw no less than five goblets to Merlin’s head. And then assigned an impossible amount of chores to Merlin with an impossible time limit.

In the early afternoon, having finished his chores, Merlin finally joined the prince in his chambers. Arthur was in a surprisingly better mood. He told his servant: “Ah, Merlin. You’re here. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the council room. I think I’ve finally found how to persuade my father to let me go on a mission.”

And then Arthur refused to answer any of Merlin’s questions. Once in the council room, the prince greeted the king, who was discussing state matters with a few counsellors, including Gaius: “Father.”

“Arthur. Is there anything you wanted to tell me?” the king replied.

“Yes, father. I’ve received news of Whitehold.”

“Whitehold?”

“The village plagued by a chimera. The villager came last week to ask for your help.”

Merlin was very careful not to let anything on, but the beginning of this conversation was making him anxious. He was proud of having rid the village from the chimera, but if the Red Knight had reported his use of magic…

Arthur continued his report: “This morning, I’ve received reports explaining that the creature has been killed with magic. The death of the creature is a good news in itself, but I think we can’t allow this use of magic to go unpunished. Otherwise, people will turn to magic whenever they’re faced with a problem. Shall I take a few men and go investigate?”

Damn it. And of course the king would send Arthur to investigate. Which was probably what the prince had planned all along.

But the king replied: “No. Choose a group of twenty knights and soldiers, and send them to investigate. I want the sorcerer found.”

“But, father…”

“No, Arthur. I’ve told you already. I’m not sending you on foolish missions if you can’t hold your own. You are to stay here and oversee the investigations. Is that understood?”

After an afternoon (and evening) even worse than the morning (Arthur’s mood had become worse than anything after his father’s curt dismissal), Merlin arrived exhausted to his mentor’s chambers, only to find a furious Gaius sitting at his desk. Or perhaps he was worried. Or anything in between. “Merlin! You see what happens when you’re not careful?” Merlin decided to still avoid telling him about the Red Knight. “I suppose the villagers noticed traces of magic on the chimera’s corpse?” “Are you sure no one has seen you?” “Yes, Gaius, I’m sure!” “Well, I suppose the soldiers will not find anything. Let us hope they do not cause too much harm to the villagers…” Gaius said. This night, Merlin went to bed with a heavy heart. He shouldn’t have let the Red Knight see him use magic. If anyone ended up burnt at the stake in Whitehold, real sorcerer or simple victim of the soldiers’ paranoia, the blame would fall on him and him alone, and worse, he would never be able to tell anyone. 

* * *

Arthur couldn’t sleep.

He was still thinking about Emrys. The sorcerer had saved him just before actually meeting him, he had helped Arthur hunt down the chimera, then lure it out of the woods, he had killed it before the monster could devour Arthur, he had healed him instead of killing him and letting him to die. And what had Arthur done?

He had told his father that the chimera had been killed using magic, started a witch hunt in Whitehold, one he couldn’t even control to make sure innocent villagers wouldn’t be harmed, only to coax his father into letting him go on a mission outside of the castle walls. Which didn’t even work.

He really hoped Sir Leon would be able to control the soldiers. He was sure Emrys could be anywhere right now, and probably not in Whitehold, but he couldn’t explain this to the soldiers without revealing how he knew it. Without confessing his activities from last night: leaving the castle against the king’s wishes, to fight a monster, also against the king’s wishes, and getting involved in the magical activity related to the beast’s death. The first two were bad enough, but there was no telling how incensed the king would be upon hearing the last one. And heaven forbid it became public through the loose lips of a soldier at the tavern: his father would never forgive him.

On the other hand, could he really let the mysterious sorcerer get away with his blatant use of magic? Who knew what he’d do?

But Arthur had to admit it to himself. The more important question was: Who knew where Emrys was?

Certainly not in Whitehold. He even arrived in the clearing after Arthur.

Then the upcoming witch hunt would only trouble innocent villagers, and it was Arthur’s fault.

To ease his mind, Arthur tried to convince himself that Leon would be reasonable enough to protect the villagers and decide fairly whether accused people were guilty or innocent.

But it still wasn’t enough for his conscience’s inner voice. Arthur’s actions felt distasteful. He couldn’t help but see them as a treason of Emrys’ trust, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that sorcerers were traitors to the kingdom themselves, and thus couldn’t be protected by a knight’s honour.

After hours of tossing and turning in his bed, Arthur fell asleep desperately telling himself that Emrys wouldn’t suffer from the witch hunt, wouldn’t even learn of it, and that they would never meet again anyway.

Unbeknownst to him, somewhere else in the castle, Emrys was also having a terrible night, plagued by his thoughts of the witch hunt and what it would bring to the people of Whitehold.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After hours of tossing and turning in his bed, Arthur fell asleep desperately telling himself that Emrys wouldn’t suffer from the witch hunt, wouldn’t even learn of it, and that they would never meet again anyway.
> 
> Unbeknownst to him, somewhere else in the castle, Emrys was also having a terrible night, plagued by his thoughts of the witch hunt and what it would bring to the people of Whitehold.

The next morning, Arthur selected the men who would lead the witch hunt with a heavy heart. At least he could find some comfort knowing that Sir Leon had accepted to protect the villagers if the soldiers were overzealous in their research. The party was gathered under Arthur’s windows the same day, ready to leave. Watching their departure from above, the prince still hoped they wouldn’t harm innocent villagers. Unlike his father, he didn’t find the execution of innocents an acceptable sacrifice in the fight against magic.

The wait was infuriating. Arthur couldn’t help but take his frustration out on Merlin, who hadn't deserved any of it. After six long days, riders were finally spotted on the road to the citadel. Impatient, Arthur went to meet them in the castle courtyard. Sir Leon greeted him and told him “No sign of sorcery in Whitehold. We searched every house, scoured the woods, interrogated everyone. No one has seen anything suspicious in years. There is no sorcerer hiding in Whitehold.”

After this first “failure”, the king sent other patrols around Whitehold to hunt for sorcerers, despite Arthur pointing out (repeatedly) that according to the first reports, the sorcerer wasn’t from Whitehold, that he had probably left the region long ago, and that the knights hadn’t found anything. The only thing left to do was to hope something would distract the king from his pointless crusade against the village.

Fate was apparently on Arthur’s side. Two days after the king had sent the third party to raid Whitehold, a patrol of knights came back to Camelot reporting strange disappearances of children in the northern parts of the kingdom, maybe the work of a creature of magic.

Arthur took a second to appreciate the irony of this situation: the village of Whitehold would be saved by the village of Avenford.

Or maybe not. “If the people don’t take care of their spawn, it’s not up to the crown to do it,” the king replied to the knights and Arthur, who were trying to coax him into sending them to investigate. “And they should keep an eye on their children instead of making up tales of creatures taking them away.”

After weeks of beating his head against the wall of the king’s obsessive hatred of magic, Arthur was too tired of his father’s stubbornness to protest. The Red Knight would probably make a trip to Avenford.

* * *

Merlin was bringing Arthur’s laundry back to the prince’s bedroom, when he met Leon leaving the council room. He greeted the knight, one of Arthur’s most trusted men, who was always friendly with Merlin.

Leon seemed troubled. “Oh, hello, Merlin.”

“Is there something wrong, Sir Leon?”

“A creature is taking children away near Avenford. The villagers report hearing voices, like songs, near the river. Do you think Gaius knows what it is?”

“I can ask him,” Merlin offered. “Will you go there with the other knights?”

“The king doesn’t believe there’s a creature in Avenford, he won’t send anyone.”

“I see… Well, Sir Leon, I have to bring Arthur his laundry. I’ll see you later!”

When he arrived in Arthur’s chambers, the prince called him. “Merlin. I won’t need your services in the next few days. You can help Gaius with his work, or do whatever it is you do when you’re not working for me.”

“Days off? Really? Why?” Merlin couldn’t help but ask.

“I am the prince of Camelot and I don’t have to explain myself to you. Unless you want me to take that offer back?” Arthur retorted with a smug grin.

“Are you planning to do something incredibly stupid while I’m not looking?” Merlin inquired. This was really, _really_ suspicious coming from Arthur. He never gave Merlin time off.

“Certainly not. I have to work on some important state matters and I don’t need you puttering around my chambers distracting me all the time,” Arthur replied.

Well, in that case maybe he’d use the time to go to Avenford and look for the water spirit. Emrys could certainly get rid of the problem. Discreetly, this time.

Later this day, Merlin asked Gaius about the creature. After a moment of thinking, the old man answered “It may be a river spirit, like a nixe or an asrai. You don’t plan to fight that creature, do you?”

Merlin didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself.

“And when do you plan to go there? The trip to Avenford takes one day!”

“Arthur is giving me days off. He said he needed peace to work on some things.”

“Really?” Gaius asked. “Then you won’t mind going to the woods to collect some herbs for me before you go. I need comfrey and yarrow. And if you could find some poppy seeds…”

“Can I bring them with me when I come back? I want to leave as soon as possible,” Merlin said.

* * *

Arthur decided against exploring Avenford. His cape and armour were too noticeable with the added hood and the lack of the Camelot golden dragon, and he didn’t want to be seen and perceived as a potential troublemaker before actually doing some good deeds around the village. The people might be suspicious of him, and he would need their cooperation. Instead, he chose to explore the woods around the village, and to try and find the river near which voices had been heard.

Soon enough, he found a shallow stream, and followed it to a deeper river. He walked along it for a while, before a voice called him from behind.

“So we meet again, Red.”

Arthur snorted. “Emrys. I should've known you were involved.”

“I only got myself involved recently” Emrys said while catching up with him. “I didn’t know there was a creature before.”

“What did you come for? Are you fostering these creatures?”

“Look, it may have escaped your notice, but I didn’t exactly _foster_ the chimera, last time,” Emrys retorted.

Arthur snorted louder. “You still have to tell me what you’re doing in Camelot lands.”

“So do you, Red.”

Arthur laughed openly. “I’m a knight. Camelot welcomes knights, including wandering ones. You, on the other hand, are a sorcerer. Which means you’re using magic and enchantments, which are illegal according to the laws of Camelot. So you’re a criminal, and it’s my duty to arrest you and bring you to the king.”

“You will do no such thing. I really don’t want to turn you into a toad or something. I think you’re quite nice, for a knight.”

The compliment was a surprise. Arthur didn’t expect a sorcerer to compliment him. Then again, Emrys couldn’t know he was talking to Arthur Pendragon. He rose an eyebrow, forgetting the helmet masking his features.

Emrys must have figured out his expression, because he amended his remarks: “That is, when you’re not trying to kill innocent people for saving your arse.”

Arthur decided to never let Emrys meet Merlin or Morgana. He’d never survive the onslaught of sass these three would unleash on him. He quickly changed topics. “Are you threatening to use your magic against me?”

“No. Are you threatening to use your sword against me?”

And Arthur had been had. He would _definitely_ do everything in his power to stop Emrys from ever meeting Merlin. “Don’t give me a reason to.” He knew that it was exactly what Emrys said about…

“That’s exactly what I said about my magic. Don’t give me a reason to use it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Now Emrys was being sarcastic! He was about to reply with a barb of his own, when he heard a shrill scream. Turning his head in the direction of the noise, he asked “Is this the creature?”

Emrys seemed uncertain. “Perhaps! Whatever it is, I think we should check!”

They ran towards the source of the scream. They found a woman standing in front of rapids in the river, staring in the whitewater. “My son! Alec! Alec! My son, my baby! Come!”

Emrys caught up with her first. Arthur had to admit, he was quite fast. He heard the man ask the lady “What happened?”

She answered in a hysterical voice “My son! My son, my baby, my son fell in the river!”

Arthur could see a tiny hand trying to grab something in the rapids, and failing to hold anything for long. Without a second thought, he dove in the river, in full armour. He heard Emrys scream “Red!!!” but didn’t pay attention.

There was water everywhere. He was washed by the currents from all directions, tumbled again and again in the rapids. His head hit something hard; a rock, he thought. He let out a huff, and berated himself for wasting air like this. In this confusion, he could see the tiny hand of a child, almost drowned by the current. He caught it with his own and tried to steady the both of them in the current. He didn’t know if or when he was above the surface, but he held on the tiny hand, and then caught the body of the child in his arms. He had to hold on. He had to swim up. He had to hold…

He extended an arm, trying to catch a rock, feeling the speed of the water try to take him, but he held on. His head pierced the surface for a second and he breathed, but now a wave took him under the water once more. From the corner of his eye, he saw an extended hand. He let go of the rock and tried to swim up, to reach the hand… 

* * *

Merlin couldn’t believe the Red Knight. What kind of a damn fool would jump in river rapids in full armour with no strategy other than ‘go to child, hold child, drown stupidly’?! Fortunately, Red seemed to be in excellent physical condition, which allowed him to hold onto a piece of rock before they were taken down the river.

Merlin ran towards the knight, not sure if Red could hold on for long. He extended his arm, yelling “Take my hand!” Red had his head underwater, he probably couldn’t hear. He saw the hand anyway, and jumped to grab it. Merlin could see that he wouldn’t reach it. With a flash of his eyes, he lifted the knight, who caught his arm with one hand and held the child with the other.

Merlin pulled them out of the river. Red coughed a few times. Apparently, he was just a bit stunned. The child, however, was in a more concerning state. He must’ve had swallowed water, and he was unconscious. Merlin checked his heartbeat, and felt relieved to detect one. Suddenly, the child coughed and vomited copious amounts of water. He had a nasty cut on his brow and a big bump behind his head. His mother, seeing her child alive, thanked Merlin and Red profusely.

“He needs a warm bed, and to see a healer,” Merlin cut her.

“Of course, my Lord. Thank you for your help. My Lords,” she saluted, bowing deeply. She then took her child and left hurriedly.

Merlin turned to Red. “Your turn.”

“What.”

“You heard me. You got clobbered on the head by a couple of rocks. Although it’s probably the rocks I should examine, your head is way thicker than theirs.”

“Shut up, Emrys.”

“No, seriously, what was that? Jumping in the rapids in full armour? Do you have a death wish?”

Grumbling and mumbling, Merlin led them upstream to a small cave from which water was trickling into the main river.

From the mouth of the cave, a charming voice could be heard, singing a song with no discernible words.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumbling and mumbling, Merlin led them upstream to a small cave from which water was trickling into the main river.
> 
> From the mouth of the cave, a charming voice could be heard, singing a song with no discernible words.

“ _Forþecce úre ēaran,_ ” Merlin whispered. Red tensed at his side, feeling the spell rolling on his ears, protecting them against the sound.

“Why did you…?” Red asked.

“Ga… _Someone_ told me the creature could be an asrai. They control people with their songs and kill them for fun,” Merlin replied. “I used the spell to protect us from the song.” With a sly grin, he added “If you want, I can remove it and you can deal with the mind-controlling magic voice.”

Merlin could practically _hear_ Red making a face under his helmet. But the knight stubbornly answered “How can I know _you_ won’t control me?”

Merlin shrugged. “You wouldn’t ask if the spell was controlling you.” Seriously, he was just as predictable as Arthur.

“Fair enough.”

Merlin threw a long-suffering look at Red, even though the knight couldn't see it. “Look, if you won’t let me examine your head to make sure you’re not _too_ concussed, at least let me make sure you’re not controlled by a water fairy, right?” he said, before mumbling “Come to think of it, maybe the concussion is just your normal state.”

But Red was listening. “I heard that!”

“Good, at least your ears aren’t damaged by your little stunt earlier. And I don’t see why you should be surprised. Who would jump in a river covered in metal plates, other than dimwits and people not in their right mind?”

Red grumbled something. Merlin decided not to pay attention. It usually worked with Arthur, and it seemed the two of them were cut from the same cloth: the one used to make reckless daft knights. If Red’s reputation rose, Merlin would have to work twice as hard to make sure Arthur didn’t come up with the perfect plan to get himself killed in an attempt to show off and outclass him.

They entered the cave, stepping in the water trickling on the floor. The spell let them hear the wordless song, but it was a bit muffled, as if heard through a door. After a few steps, the daylight wasn’t enough to see the ground. Merlin turned to Red, cocking his head to the side as if to ask ‘And now?’

Red had no answer. He didn’t have a torch, or any other way to make light. With a sigh, he grumbled “Alright. Fine. Use your magic.”

Facing the dark cave once again, Merlin tried to search his memory for a light spell, but didn’t remember any. He chose to try something else instead. “ _Ic þe lǣde mid léoht þóðres min._ ” In the language of magic, he’d just said ‘I guide you with the light of my sphere,’ in the hopes of summoning a ball of light to illuminate the cave. It wasn’t the first time he made up a spell on the spot, and with luck, his magic would cooperate today too.

He felt the familiar tingle of magic leaving him to obey his command, and a ball of swirling bluish light appeared in the air. Delicate as a bubble, it stayed above their heads, suspended there, waiting for them. The lines of blue light moved idly, casting shifting shadows on the walls and the ground.

Merlin heard Red gasp behind him. He supposed the quite blatant display of open magic made him uncomfortable. He flashed a hesitant smile to the knight, before remembering his face was still covered in enchanted shadows.

He tried to defuse the tension: “I could’ve made us able to see in the dark, but you already have a spell on your ears, I didn’t want to put one on your eyes too.”

Red shook himself as if trying to focus his thoughts on the present. “Uh, alright, thank you, Emrys,” he said in a very strange voice. As if he’d seen a ghost. Which he definitely hadn’t. It was a simple ball of light, dammit.

Huffing in contempt, Merlin started walking.

* * *

Arthur couldn’t believe it.

It was _this_ light.

Emrys had summoned the same ball of light that had saved him in the caves of Balor, months ago. He tried to calm down with deep breaths. Maybe it was a very common light spell.

Or maybe _Emrys_ had sent the light in the caves of Balor.

He had to know.

But if, _if_ Emrys had sent the light, he couldn’t tell him anything that would reveal his identity. He certainly didn’t trust the sorcerer enough for that, light or no light.

“That’s convenient.”

“What?” Emrys asked.

“That light. Is that how you light your house?” he asked. “Or hovel, or cave, or wherever you live,” he added to hide his interest in Emrys’ answer.

“I just made up that spell. I think I only used that kind of magic once before, when I was asleep. And no need to be so rude, by the way. I don’t live in a ‘hovel or cave’, thank you very much.”

“I won’t believe that. Unless you tell me where you actually live,” Arthur teased.

Emrys scoffed. “So that you can send the king’s knights after me? No way.”

“I wouldn’t,” Arthur promised.

Emrys’ voice was icy when he replied: “Oh, really? Then who told the king there was a sorcerer in Whitehold? You knew he’d send his men to wreck the village.”

Guilt pooled in Arthur’s stomach. “… Sorry.”

“You can be! The people of Whitehold had done nothing, and the knights stayed there for ages!”

They walked in silence after that. Besides his lingering guilt for what he’d inflicted on the people of Whitehold, Arthur had a lot to think about. He was almost certain that Emrys had sent the helpful light in the caves of Balor. And apparently he was asleep. Arthur couldn’t remember what time it was when he fought the spiders. It could’ve been night. Which explained why Emrys was asleep, but not how he’d sent this light. Or why.

Arthur tentatively asked “You said you used that magic while sleeping? How did you do it? Do you speak in your sleep?”

Emrys must’ve gotten over his anger, because he answered with his normal voice. “Not really. Sometimes, my magic just does what I want without spells.”

“And you wanted to make that light?”

“Someone needed it. I don’t know how it happened, but my magic made that light for me, and for that person.”

“Does it mean you’re powerful, then?” Arthur asked.

“A bit,” Emrys shrugged.

Arthur didn’t know what to do with this information. A powerful sorcerer had unconsciously helped him, just because he needed help at that moment. He kept silent once again, trailing after Emrys, lost in thought.

* * *

Merlin was puzzled by Red’s questions. In contrast with his initial reaction, he seemed quite interested in the ball of light. And Emrys’ magic. Merlin decided not to let himself hope Red was actually starting to, not accept, but at least consider his magic instead of rejecting it as a whole. It was more likely that the knight was subtly investigating Merlin’s case. The sorcerer had answered his questions as carefully as possible. He couldn’t tell Red anything that would help the knight identify him.

But soon enough, Red stopped his questions and followed him quietly. Merlin took the opportunity to listen attentively. The song was growing louder, as if they were getting closer to its source.

After a turn in the cave’s tunnels, Merlin and Red came across a large stone hall. A deep pool of water laid in its centre, and stalactites were looming above. Sitting in the shallow water, near the edge of the pond, a creature was waiting for them.

It had a feminine face, with water trickling along emerald green hair, but the body was only barely humanoid. Even though its general figure was human-like, the arms and legs looked more like flippers. In the faint light of Merlin’s spell, the eyes of the creature were glinting like underwater dancing lights. Its pale celadon skin was marked by strange patterns that could represent scales or algae. Merlin belatedly realised the creature was also partially covered in algae. The asrai, since it was one, shrieked upon seeing the orb of light. She put an arm in front of her eyes in protection, and clawed at her throat with her free hand. After a beat, she dropped her arms in visible relief, then bared her pink, pointy teeth at the two men, hissing loudly.

Merlin lifted his hand and readied himself. Behind him, Red took a fighting stance.

The asrai screamed wordlessly, piercing their ears with her rage.

Merlin tried to fling her to the wall of the cave, but his usual magic pulse, or shove, just passed right through her. Her body undulated like a reflection on a lake disturbed by ripples. The asrai grabbed a rock and hurled it at Merlin with a growl. The large pebble crossed the hall faster than wind, and caught the warlock in the stomach. He dropped to his knees, holding his belly with his two arms. He was in too much pain to breathe, let alone scream.

Seeing him fall, Red readied his sword and rushed to the asrai. He swung his sword, but the blade only touched water: the asrai had melted into a splash of water, and reappeared on the other side of the pool. The Red Knight ran to her once more, only to see her use the same trick again and appear in the middle of the dip. Red threw her a dark, menacing look under his helmet. Merlin got to his feet just in time to see Red’s gaze turn to the pool itself. The knight made a first step into the water.

Merlin yelled “NO!” and threw his arms forward, pushing Red out of the pond with magic.

“Emrys, what the _hell_?!” Red shouted, before he noticed that the asrai was exactly where he’d been a split second before.

“It’s a trap! She wants you to go in the water, where she’s at her strongest!”

Merlin tried to find a solution. His instinctive, innate magic didn’t affect the creature, nor did Red’s sword. Of course, it hadn’t been forged in a dragon’s breath, or refined with enchantments. Merlin promised himself he’d ‘borrow’ Red’s sword to do something about it if they kept running into creatures the knight was useless against.

But now wasn’t the time to complain. Merlin mentally reviewed everything he knew about asrais. They were creatures of water, they feared the light of the sun when they weren’t underwater…

But in a cave, if they managed to get the asrai away from the pond, nothing would happen. Except the asrai had seemed afraid of his light orb, until she realised the sphere wasn’t what she thought it was. Then what could…

Fire, of course! The asrai was sensitive to light and heat, she’d naturally be afraid of fire!

Merlin had no time to explain his plan to Red. He yelled “ _Onhefe þá wæter!_ ”

Droplets of water started floating from the pond towards the ceiling of the cave. The asrai screeched and Merlin felt a resistance, as if a force was opposing his spell. Some of the stalactites started to shake.

“Emrys?” Red asked hesitantly.

Merlin couldn’t answer, as he was currently focusing on saving everyone’s arse. Well, his and Red’s. Slowly, more and more of the water accumulated above their heads. Looking upwards, Merlin noticed with horror that there was nothing above to mirror the dip of the pond on the ground. If this failed, if the water fell down now, Red and him would both be underwater with the asrai long enough for her to hurt at least one of them.

He hoped his plan wouldn’t fail.

The asrai was yelling and yelling now, but Merlin’s magic was stronger. She seemed to understand it, and switched targets. Two stalactites broke from the ceiling, and launched themselves at Merlin and Red. The knight sidestepped the projectile intended for him, and Merlin managed to avoid his. He did not know how he did it, and he didn’t care. Because most of the water was now floating above.

Merlin kept a hand lifted to maintain the upside-down pool overhead, and lowered the other in the general direction of the asrai. He generally avoided using two spells at the same time to keep control of his magic, but there was no other choice. He screamed “ _Forbaerne! Ácwele!_ ” and threw a fireball at the asrai, now isolated from its water.

The creature shrieked and writhed, its green skin turning grey in a few seconds as the first droplets of water started falling downwards, out of Merlin’s control. After a last piercing scream, the asrai was nothing but a puddle of water colored in grey by the ashes.

Merlin lost control of the magic lifting the water, and he and Red received the equivalent of a small pond on their heads.

And just because of that, Merlin _knew_ Red was going to yell at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin uses a different incantation for his guiding light in _The Poisoned Chalice_ : “ _Fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme. Fromum feohgiftum…_ ”, but it’s not actually a spell, it’s from _Beowulf_ and it has almost nothing to do with a guiding light. My interpretation is that Merlin is unconsciously babbling in the language of magic, and makes the light by instinct.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a last piercing scream, the asrai was nothing but a puddle of murky water in which ashes were soaking.  
> Merlin let go of his magic, and he and Red received the equivalent of a small pond on their heads.  
> And just because of that, Merlin _knew_ Red was going to yell at him.

Arthur was positively _soaked_. After the battle with the… hearsay? ashray? ass tray? – _the creature_ , Emrys had let the water from the pond drop on their heads. The only comfort Arthur had in this situation was that the sorcerer was equally drenched, and if his sagged shoulders were any indication, just as happy about it as Arthur was.

Inhaling deeply, the prince bellowed “ _What the hell was that for?! Are you out of your_ frigging _mind?_ Couldn’t you warn me about your plan, too? What’s wrong with you?!” Having depleted his lungs, he inhaled again to continue his rant, but Emrys spoke before he got the chance.

“If you’re not going to thank me, I don’t want to hear it.”

Arthur spluttered. The man had dropped a whole pond on their heads, and he still wanted gratitude?! “I’m soaking wet,” he finally managed to groan.

“And you’re alive. Thanks to my magic. Your sword couldn’t do anything against her,” Emrys casually reminded him. Way to rub salt in the wound.

“I could’ve…”

“Drowned in a knightly manner in the hands of a charming, _not human_ damsel, no doubt,” Emrys cut.

Oh gods. He was even _worse_ than Merlin. At least Arthur’s idiot of a best fri- _manservant_ would never have a reason to sound as pleased with himself as Emrys did. Also, he didn’t have magic, and thus didn’t go around flaunting magical talents without even bragging. Emrys had lifted a whole pool of water in the air against the will of the very same pool’s resident water spirit fairy thing, and he didn’t even seem tired. As if it was a normal thing to do, which it wasn’t, even by sorcerous standards. Arthur was quite certain few sorcerers could accomplish what Emrys had just done, and he didn’t even seem to realise it, which made it _worse_. That man was going to be the death of Arthur.

Arthur sighed. “Fine. Thank you, o great Emrys, for saving my poor, undeserving life with those accursed, unnatural powers of yours.”

Emrys flinched. “Could you maybe not call it that? I’m not a monster.”

“You’re a sorcerer,” Arthur replied. “Magic makes people evil. It corrupts the soul. All the magic I’ve ever seen has been used to attack innocent people.”

“So me saving you and that child, earlier, counted as attacking innocent people? And when I saved you from ending up as a snack for a hungry chimera? Not mentioning that time when you almost jumped straight into the arms of a murderous asrai, _a few minutes ago_ ,” Emrys angrily replied. “My magic alone saved your life three times already, _I_ saved, healed, and helped you even more than that, and we only met twice! Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“That you’re an insolent, nosy meddler. I’m a knight, I can take care of myself,” Arthur replied. He initially had no intention of insulting Emrys, who _had_ saved his life a few times now, but his pride was hurt, and as usual it got the best of him. In the back of his mind, he knew his bit of exposition on the dangers of magic had hurt Emrys, too, but his own pride and education prevented him from caring about that.

Emrys scoffed. “Yes, I can see that, _sir knight_. You jump in rapids covered in armour.”

They faced each other for a few seconds, Arthur drilling his gaze into the shadows still covering Emrys’ head under his hood.

Finally, Emrys dropped his head. “Fine. You’ve been in Camelot all of your life. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you won’t change your mind about magic so soon after…” He didn’t finish his sentence, gesturing vaguely to mention everything that had happened since their fateful meeting weeks ago. Turning around, he left the cave halls, followed by his ball of light.

Arthur went after him. He didn’t really know how to answer to the other man’s remarks, but he still had to try. “Look, Emrys, I’ve only met you twice, I know nothing of you or your motivations. All my life, I’ve been told that magic is evil and corrupts people. How could I trust you?”

Emrys shifted uncomfortably. “You do, though.”

“What?”

“You trusted the protection spell on your ears. Or at least you didn’t run me through when I cast it,” Emrys explained.

“I almost did,” Arthur protested.

“Yeah. Almost. But instead you asked what I was doing and why. And you didn’t ask me to lift the spell immediately. Speaking of which, I’ll remove it now. Don’t move,” he told Arthur, gesturing him to stop walking.

After a beat, Arthur’s hearing became better. He hadn’t realised the song wasn’t the only sound dulled by the spell until it was lifted. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“Pleasure!” Emrys said in a cheerful voice. “By the way, how often do you plan on going after creatures and magic stuff and whatnot?”

“As often as I have to. They endanger the people of Camelot, and I cannot just sit and watch. Why?”

“Because your sword isn’t going to be of much use against a lot of them. Some creatures cannot be defeated without at least some help from magic.”

“Any examples?”

Emrys looked hesitant. “Asrais?” he finally answered.

“Is it a question?” Arthur asked in annoyance.

“I have other examples,” Emrys assured, “but I also have secrets to protect.”

“And that’s why I can’t trust you,” Arthur concluded.

“Some are not my secrets to tell, you big lump. And _you_ threatened to run me through already. I’m the one who shouldn’t be trusting the other here.”

Arthur made a face under his helmet. The man was a nuisance. “I… ugh. Fine. Keep your secrets, Emrys.”

“Thanks,” the man replied. “I think we should find a way to contact each other.”

“What?!”

“You heard me,” he said. Then, perceiving Arthur’s serious doubts about his suggestion, he explained “Look, you’re a half-decent knight, you didn’t kill me for helping you with magic yet, and you’re protecting the people of Camelot. You’ll find yourself against a creature you can’t kill eventually, and if I’m not around to give you a hand, you might die.”

Arthur laughed. “Are you worried about me, Emrys?”

“I’m just tired of running around saving the people of Camelot on my own, and it’s nice to have company.”

“You _are_ worried about me!”

Emrys sighed. “Yes. I don’t know why, but I wouldn’t want you to die already. Happy?”

“You’re such a…”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Emrys cut.

Just as Arthur thought. Worse than Merlin. The prince shook his head, then noticed they had already reached the cave’s entrance. They were now outside. “Alright. Well, what are you going to do now?”

“Catch a griffin and hide it in your bed,” Emrys replied in mock-annoyance. “I’m going home. Don’t you dare follow me, or I’ll turn you into… a sparrow. It fits you.”

“You say I look like a sparrow?” Arthur asked.

“Yep! Big head, tiny brains, flies around being useless and making enough noise to remind everyone else of its existence. Yeah, that’s definitely you.”

Arthur stifled a laugh. It seemed he couldn’t escape annoying idiots with a big mouth, even in disguise. “Alright. I won’t follow you to your hovel. Or your cave, or wherever you live,” he promised, in part to get a rise out of the sorcerer.

“Oi! I told you I don’t live in… Oh, get lost,” he said, turning around. He walked away from Arthur, in the direction opposed to Avenford.

Perfect. Arthur still had to make up for the mess with Whitehold. And he had an idea how he could do so, in Avenford.

* * *

Merlin entered the council room after Arthur. The king was there, as usual, with some council members. Gaius was there as well. He had mentioned it to Merlin in the morning, but the young man had forgotten.

It had been two days since Merlin had come back to Camelot. He’d first given Gaius a _very abridged_ version of his trip to Avenford. ‘Very abridged’ meaning he’d cut out any mention of the Red Knight, and the woman whose child they’d saved. Gaius would’ve had a fit if he learnt Merlin had shown his magic to so many people.

“Father,” Arthur greeted.

“Arthur,” the king answered. “Did you have anything to tell me?”

“I’ve received news from Avenford, the village where the children were disappearing.”

That thrice-damned knight! Merlin tensed behind Arthur. He hoped no one would notice, especially… Ah, too late, Gaius’ eyes were already on him, his eyebrow imperceptibly lifted. Anyone else would assume Gaius was merely looking at Arthur waiting for him to further explain himself, but Merlin knew he was already preparing a lecture on the topic of carelessness and its consequences for his favourite (and only) magical nephew. All the while exploring Merlin's soul with his eyebrow.

Arthur announced: “Apparently, a knight from an unknown house slayed the creature that had captured and killed the children. A few villagers noticed that knight, but he didn’t tell them his name or where he was from.”

Uther kept silent for a while, thinking. He finally asked Arthur: “And you would believe such… _rumours_ about a mysterious knight? Drunk peasants from the tavern make up big tales everyday, what makes those stories more believable?”

Arthur calmly replied: “Several villagers described the knight: plain armour, red cape but no golden dragon embroidered on it, always keeps his helmet on so that no one can see his face. Besides, there are no more disappearances in Avenford.”

“So either the peasants learnt to raise their children, or the cause of these disappearances is gone. Good. Thank you, Arthur. Sit down with us, it is time for you to become more involved in the matters of the state.”

The prince took his seat, and Merlin went to his own place behind him, not sure how he should feel. He was grateful there wouldn’t be a repeat of Whitehold’s disastrous witch hunt in Avenford, but now Gaius would definitely question him about that knight. He could feel his mentor’s gaze on him, and he dreaded this particular conversation.

Once the meeting in the council room finished, Gaius practically dragged Merlin to his chambers. Luckily, there was no speaking of sorcery, no proof that Merlin himself had been involved, lives had been saved, and the king had dropped the matter. Merlin hoped that would at least spare him Gaius’ infamous yelling. The Eyebrow of Doom, however, would undoubtedly be put to good use.

And, right on cue, once the door safely closed, the two of them faced each other in the main room and Gaius silently rose his eyebrow.

Merlin squirmed.

Gaius stared.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “What?”

“Don't you have something to tell me? What do you know about the mysterious knight that vanquished the asrai?”

“That Uther doesn’t care about him?” Merlin said with his most innocent smile plastered on his face.

That was, of course, the wrong answer. The Eyebrow of Doom became more menacing, if that was even possible. “ _Mer-lin._ ”

Defeated, Merlin looked down. His shoulders sagged. “Sorry.”

“So you are responsible for these rumours about a knight in shining armour trying to help people?”

“No. There is a knight, though.”

“A knight of Camelot claimed the credit for your actions?”

Merlin squirmed. Gaius wouldn’t let him in peace until he was satisfied. Which he probably wouldn’t be, but that was beside the point. Sighing, he replied: “When I went to Whitehold, I found a wandering knight fighting the chimera when I arrived. He’s the one the rumours speak about.”

“Merlin,” Gaius admonished. “Wandering knights exist only in the bards’ songs. Knights are attached to a noble house of higher station than their own, and to the kingdom that house pledges loyalty to.”

“I know, Gaius. But he had no crest, no markings, nothing. Only a red cloak with a hood that fell on his head, as if he didn’t want to be recognised. And his armour was that of a rich man, probably a nobleman given his behaviour.”

“A noble knight… How did he know about the chimera?” Gaius asked.

“He didn’t tell me.”

“I suppose he’s the one who reported the use of magic in Whitehold.”

It was no question, but Merlin answered anyway. “Yes, that was him. He saw my magic and he threatened me. But he was injured, so he couldn’t hurt me.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t see you this time. I wonder how he could take the credit for it, though.”

Merlin looked sheepish. “He was in Avenford too.”

Gaius threw him a sharp look. “Did you think it would be a good idea to go with him and show him even more magic?”

“He didn’t report my magic this time, Gaius. He said he was sorry about what happened to Whitehold,” Merlin said.

Gaius threw his arms in the air. “And you believed him? How can you be so foolish? He can be preparing a trap for you, or trying to find out who you are! I told you before, the one thing that someone like you should do is make yourself as insignificant as possible, not show off your magic to a knight of all people!”

“I know, Gaius. But he’s seen my magic, and I saved his life with it, too. I think… I think I can change his mind about magic. And if I do, then maybe I can change Arthur’s, too.” His voice broke. “I don’t know how to change Arthur’s beliefs yet. If I manage to show the knight that magic can be used for good, then I won’t feel so… helpless.”

Gaius got closer to Merlin, and wrapped his arms around the young man. “I know, Merlin. I just wish you were more careful with your gifts, my boy.”

* * *

Arthur couldn’t finish his paperwork. He kept being distracted by his thoughts about Emrys, magic, creatures of magic, Camelot, the motivations of a sorcerer who had acted in a selfless way countless times now, and so on.

It didn’t help that what he was working on was tedious. A knight had reported that one of the training shields was damaged, and Arthur needed to grant the master of arms’ request to get new shields from the blacksmith. Farmers in the lands he managed on his own in the eastern parts of the kingdom had troubles with rats eating the grains. His father had dumped harvest reports from the last ten years to estimate next harvest and make a plan to restore the kingdom’s food stores since they had been obliterated by Arthur’s mistake with the unicorn. And Anhora’s curse, even though he knew deep down that the old keeper had nothing to do with the curse, and had only set trials for Arthur to prove his worth instead of leaving him to wait for fate to throw appropriate tests on his path. But he was a bit angry at him for endangering Merlin, so he allowed himself to be petty in his thoughts. He knew perfectly that his best fr- _manservant_ , manservant, dammit! would remind him he’d never been in danger anyway, and that he was being an ass, but…

Aaaand his mind was wandering again.

Damn it. He’d never finish this today.

He decided to examine the Emrys case instead. He took a blank piece of parchment to note down his thoughts about the man.

What did he know about him? Next to nothing. Emrys didn’t live in Whitehold nor in Avenford. Nor in a hovel or cave. He had come to help Arthur (or rather, Red) with the two creatures anyway, as if he knew they’d be there. He’d known about the witch hunt in Whitehold, and was predictably unhappy with it.

He had very powerful magic, and was so used to it he didn’t even seem to realise how powerful he was. He didn’t always need spells to use magic, and he apparently made up spells on the spot.

He was quick to laugh at Arthur for jumping in the river wearing his full armour. In that specific case, even Arthur had to admit it wasn’t his most brilliant idea. However, Emrys had also entered the asrai’s cave without even the beginning of a plan. And he was also reckless: he’d revealed his magic to the woman they’d helped, but also to Arthur, who was at the time wearing a knight’s armour. In Camelot. He was a master of sarcasm that should never, _ever_ meet Merlin or Morgana. Yet, his taunts weren’t mean-spirited, nasty or biting. He was just teasing Arthur, except when he’d been angered by the prince.

As for what he’d done… He’d saved Arthur more than once during the fight with the chimera. Then he’d healed him despite Arthur’s previous threats. He’d been willing to save the child of a stranger, and had ended up saving Arthur along with the boy. He’d saved Arthur again when the asrai had tricked him. He’d protected him against the song, too. And… he’d sent Arthur the light that had saved him in the caves of Balor.

All of this painted the picture of a man Arthur would’ve knighted or at least generously rewarded for his help, hadn’t he used magic. If anything, Arthur resented magic for threatening to darken this bright soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I see the insult "you big lump", I always imagine Gwaine call Percival that. I don't know why; I don't think he ever does in the show. I made Merlin say it to Arthur instead because I don't want him to use his signature "prat" when in disguise, and he hasn't used "clotpole" or "dollophead" yet in the fic's timeline.  
> Speaking of profanity, I noticed I use "damn" (and variants) a lot. I hope you don't mind!


	6. Chapter 6

The labyrinth had grown overnight. In a couple of hours, thick hedges of thorny bushes had covered the whole hill. A few solitary houses had been there, and were now encased in ever-growing vegetation. They belonged to the family of a rich farmer who had just settled there last spring in the hopes of converting the fertile hilly plains into crops.

The week before, that farmer had sent his daughter to Camelot to report the presence of a sorceress on his lands. In her father’s name, she’d complained that the witch had threatened to curse him and his crops, making pretty eyes at the king to obtain his help. Knights had been sent to investigate (but not with Arthur, of course, to the prince’s dismay). Having found nothing at all, they had come back to Camelot, and the king had dropped the matter, writing it off as the superstition of a peasant.

The same night, Arthur had donned his red cloak and plain armour, and had left the castle in silence. Hopefully, the matter would be solved before noon the next day and no one would bat an eye at his absence.

He’d reached the zone by midnight, then had set up a small camp before going to sleep. In the morning, he’d found himself in the labyrinth.

Navigating through the maze was an impossible task. The bushes were green, burnt slowly, and apparently regrew as soon as he had his back turned. The thorns seemed to find their way under his chainmail and into his armour. The labyrinth was wide and seemingly endless, and the plants were too fragile to climb but too thick to destroy and too high to simply walk over. In a nutshell, there was no easy way to go through the hedges, let alone find and catch the sorceress.

After hurriedly trying to find his way out for what felt like hours, Arthur let himself fall on his knees near a thorn wall enclosing a circular zone in the maze. His search had left him exhausted, panting heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. It didn’t help that he was on a tight schedule as he had to go back to Camelot before his absence stopped being inconspicuous. He _definitely_ didn’t want his father to worry about him.

A wall of bushes at the opposite side of the circle burst in flames and fell to ashes in a matter of seconds, revealing the figure of a tall sorcerer.

“Hello, Red.”

He’d never felt so happy to see Emrys.

* * *

Merlin had woken before dawn. The evening before, he had begged George to take over his duties with Arthur for a day, pretexting urgent errands to run for Gaius: herbs to collect and potions to bring to a merchant for trade. He’d gone to the zone where a sorceress had been reported. If he had guessed correctly, the Red Knight would go there and try to find the sorceress by himself. Merlin hoped to find her and encourage her to leave before Red could harm her. He didn’t buy the tear-jerking story of the loving daughter fearing for her father’s life. It was more likely that the farmer had wanted to get rid of an old lady living alone to get the lands for himself. He even doubted she had magic.

When he saw the labyrinth, he quickly changed his mind. The area was supposed to be almost ready to plant crops. The daughter hadn’t mentioned a thorny maze. Sighing in prevision of the inevitable discussion he’d have with a cranky old sorcerous lady, he readied his magic. No way he’d cross the magic maze the normal way. He had no time for this.

The bushes burnt quickly under his magic. Instinctively, he knew a normal fire wouldn’t have worked. Well, it was an easy guess, given the green, lively colour of the leaves.

Soon enough, he found someone in the maze. Through the smoke of the hedge he was obliterating, he discerned a man kneeling on the floor, his head down, panting in exhaustion. One of the farmers, maybe. But then he saw the glint of metal and the vivid colour of a red cloak. A knight of Camelo– no, wait, it was just the Red Knight.

“Hello, Red,” Merlin greeted.

The knight lifted his head and Merlin could feel relief flow from him. His posture straightened, and he replied “Emrys!” with mirth in his tone. Apparently, he was happy to see Merlin.

Or maybe, Merlin thought, he was happy to see someone who could get rid of these pesky shrubs.

In any case, he was there, and Merlin wouldn’t be able to convince the sorceress to leave before he arrived. Oh, well. He would just have to hold Red back so she could leave in peace. Or maybe he could convince Red to let her go.

As soon as the knight got to his feet, he asked Merlin if he had any food.

“What, did you forget to pack some?”

“I didn’t expect to wake up in the middle of a maze!” Red huffed. “I was supposed to be back home in the morning before anyone noticed I was gone!” He stood and started walking. Merlin followed him and burned the next wall of thorns they found on their way.

“But you’re a knight… aren’t you? What could possibly happen if you’re late?” Merlin asked.

“I have duties! I have… responsibilities I can’t just shirk when I don’t feel like working!”

“Right…” Merlin said.

“What would you know about the duties of a knight anyway? You’re not one yourself,” Red retorted in a mocking tone.

“I could be!” Merlin protested.

“Too thin, not strong enough, you’re not even carrying a sword, your grip on that staff is not how a knight would hold anything, and… you just don’t look like a knight.”

“Thank god,” Merlin muttered.

“I heard that!”

“Good for you!”

Merlin laughed heartily, then said “I could be using a glamour to change my whole appearance, you know.”

“Yes, but we’re in Camelot. No one would be stupid enough to become a knight and use magic at the same time.”

“No, it’s the perfect disguise! Who’s going to suspect a knight?”

“Well, now, me,” Red answered flatly. “Not to find you, obviously. I still can’t imagine you as a knight.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, perfectly aware that Red couldn’t see him, but the instinct was too strong.

And yet… “I can’t see you rolling your eyes, but I know you are”, the knight said.

“Since when are you the sorcerer here?”

“Shut up, Emrys.”

With Merlin’s rather unorthodox method, they reached the clearing where the sorceress was hiding in less than an hour. The old crone was boiling a pot of tea on a campfire. Upon seeing them, she greeted them like old friends. “Oh, hello! It’s nice to have some visit! Would you like some tea?”

She didn’t look like a mad sorceress, so Merlin decided he would trust her. Maybe not completely, he still remembered Edwin Muirden’s affable manners, but he could accept a cup of tea… if he used the right spells to make sure it wasn’t poisoned or enchanted.

He nodded to tell Red it was alright. The knight seemed to disagree, but Merlin didn’t let him voice his doubts. He turned to the old woman and said: “Thank you, uh…”

“Mary. And you are?”

“Uh… I’m Henrik,” Merlin tentatively answered while ignoring Red’s surprise, then, gesturing to Red “He only goes by ‘the Red Knight’, which is a silly name, so I call him Red.”

“You’re not using your real names, are you?” she guessed. “I wouldn’t either if I was walking around carrying a Sidhe staff. Where did you get it?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s just say the Sidhe who lost it won’t miss it.”

Mary gasped. “You killed a Sidhe?”

Merlin shrugged. “Two, actually. They were trying to kill someone in the Lake of Avalon to be allowed to go back.”

“I see. And why would a pair of polite young men like you want to meet an old woman like me? I trust it you didn’t come just to drink some tea,” she said, giving them cups of the warm beverage.

Merlin accepted his tea happily, and checked for poison with a flash of his eyes. He didn’t voice the spell, choosing to formulate it in his head instead. It wouldn’t do to openly insult Mary if she wasn’t trying to poison them.

It turned out she wasn’t. No trace of common poisons, nor less common poisons Mary would’ve had a hard time obtaining anyway. No enchantments. Just tea.

But the Red Knight had no way of knowing it. He took his cup reluctantly, then watched Merlin intently and said “Uh, Emr… I mean, Henrik…”

“It’s alright,” Merlin cut him hastily. Few sorcerers other than the druids knew of the prophecy, but he’d rather avoid taking risks. If Red ever made a connection between him and the Once and Future King, and realised that had to be Prince Arthur…

“Emr…” Mary repeated. Then her eyes widened. “Ooooh… Emrys.”

Well, damn. She knew.

“You know him?” Red asked. Merlin wanted to shush him, but it was too late anyway.

“I’ve heard of him,” Mary answered cryptically. “But that doesn’t tell me what you want. Why did you come here?”

After sipping his tea, Merlin asked “Did you create the labyrinth?”

“Of course I did. Gareth needed to be taught a lesson.”

Merlin could relate to that, having to deal with arrogant nobles everyday. “Gareth is the owner of these lands?”

“Only since Lord Edmund gave them to him against a bag of gold. The young brat doesn’t know how to manage his lands,” Mary scoffed.

Red, who had finally taken a sip of his own tea, asked her “What makes you say so?” with a hint of anger colouring his voice.

Mary calmly replied “When his father, Lord Marcus, was still alive, I lived here, causing no trouble and occasionally using a touch of magic to keep boars from crossing the hills and devastating the crops further south. The old lord had to know I was there, but he never bothered hunting me down. The king had tried once, during the Purge, but I was too good at hiding. And still am.”

“What happened?” Merlin asked.

“Lord Marcus died last year, and his idiot of a son, Edmund, decided to give the hills to a rich farmer. You’ve probably met him, he’s also an idiot. None of them realises the boars Lord Edmund hunts don’t go out of the woods for a reason. It’s because the hills are not enough of an incentive to leave. There’s not enough food to tempt them, and my magic just makes sure they prefer stay under the trees. But if you put crops here too, they will get out, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

She sighed. “I tried telling Gareth, the farmer, about that. He said he’d never bow to the threats of a wretched witch, and he threw stones at me. I think he went to the king, too. Recently, a few knights came searching the woods. Not ones like you,” she said, nodding at Red. “Knights of Camelot, with that golden dragon on their cloaks. That’s why I made the labyrinth,” she explained.

* * *

“And that’s all?” Emrys asked.

Arthur didn’t listen to the sorceress’ answer. He was lost in his thoughts. His education, that is to say, his father’s hatred of magic, was screaming at him to run the two sorcerers through, go back to Camelot and ask Merlin to draw him a bath. His honour protested that he had yet to repay Emrys for saving his life a few times already, and that killing defenceless old women was in no way honourable. His compassion pitied the old crone who lived alone and had seen her home disrespected by the local lord. His reason tried to understand why an evil sorceress would willingly protect crop fields for decades with no reward, and found no explanation, which meant the sorceress couldn’t be fully evil, which was a contradiction he had to investigate.

“Why did you choose to make a labyrinth of thorns?” he asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

She smirked. “Not at all. They’re just illusions.”

“Illusions? But… they’re so… real!” Emrys blurted. “I’ve pricked my fingers a few times!”

“Really? Look at your fingers, now,” the sorceress said.

“Nothing…” Emrys said, amazed.

“If the mind believes the body is hurt, then it will feel pain,” the sorceress explained. “I’m not very powerful – I couldn’t have made so many shrubs grow so fast. But I’m good at illusions!”

“But we could touch them…” Arthur said.

“Your eyes were tricked into seeing you taking a branch, and your mind was further tricked into thinking you were touching it. If you had tried to lean against a hedge, you’d have fallen through it and your mind would’ve stopped being tricked. But you didn’t,” she commented cheerfully.

“What will you do now?” Emrys asked. “It’s not safe for you in Camelot, not with people like Gareth.”

“I know. I guess I should’ve left the kingdom ages ago, but what can I say? It’s always been my home.”

Arthur wondered how many people had called Camelot home before the Purge told them they weren’t welcome here.

“The people… They’re not very grateful for your help, are they?” Emrys asked.

“Not really,” the sorceress admitted with a smile.

“I know the feeling…” Emrys said, turning his head towards Arthur, who didn’t answer.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll follow your advice and leave the kingdom. If the people here don’t think they need my magic, I won’t impose it on them. What about you, Emrys?”

“I have to stay in Camelot.”

She threw him a weird look, a mix of compassion and doubt. “Is… you know… really here? But who…”

“Yes,” Emrys replied. “And I can’t tell you. Sorry.”

She sighed. “Well, for our sakes, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

She stood, and they followed. She took their empty cups and put them in a large bag she threw on her shoulders before leaving the clearing.

“You were already planning to leave?” Arthur asked.

“My boy, I’ve been planning to leave every day for more than twenty years now.”

Emrys turned to her: “Will you remove the illusion, first?”

“Of course, Emrys.”

They walked to the shrub-covered hills. When they reached the first hedge, Arthur almost expected Emrys to burn it so they could pass, but the sorceress simply walked through while the two men stopped in their tracks.

“Sorry, but I don’t really feel like being pricked by thorns, even if they’re an illusion,” Arthur said.

“Now that you know they’re not real, you can just ignore them. You may even see through them,” the sorceress explained.

And she was right: if he focused on a particular section of the hedge, Arthur could see the real landscape behind, as if the hedge was translucent. He cautiously moved his hand towards the closest thorn, telling himself it wasn’t real. He felt a bit of pressure at first, but when he insisted, his hand went right through the plant as if it wasn’t there. Smiling under his helmet, he crossed the hedge in a leap.

The three of them walked straight to the middle of the maze. The sorceress threw her hands in the air and muttered a few words. Her eyes glowed gold for a second, and the whole labyrinth disappeared immediately.

Not too far from them, was Gareth, holding a pitchfork and a knife.

“What did you do to my fields, you witch?!” he yelled.

“I just lifted the illusion of the labyrinth,” she replied.

Arthur stepped in. “I’m the Red Knight. Me and my companion, we convinced… Mary to leave you and your family alone. We will make sure she leaves the kingdom. You do not have to fear her anymore.”

But this didn’t placate Gareth. “You let her go?! She’s a damned witch! She threatened my fields! I wan' her burnt at the stake, an' you, _sir knight_ are nothing but a coward if you shy away from your duties to the kingdom!”

“You’re angry because you still haven’t done anything to plough your fields, and you blame it on that lady instead of your laziness,” Emrys chimed in.

Gareth spluttered for a while, then, without any warning sign, he threw his knife at the sorceress, Mary.

Emrys shouted “No!!!”

The knife stopped in the air.

Gareth yelled “ _Sorcery!_ ” and tried to poke Emrys with his pitchfork.

In a split second, Arthur decided he couldn’t let him. With his left arm, he lunged and yanked Emrys out of the pitchfork’s path. In a smooth movement, he unsheathed his sword with his right hand and swished at the pitchfork, cutting the handle in two.

Gareth howled in shock, then fled to his house.

After that, Arthur and Emrys set Mary on her course to another kingdom, before separating to go where each of them actually needed to be. Neither of them mentioned the incident.

* * *

They were back in the hills. After the knights’ failure, Uther had finally allowed Arthur to go on a mission and see if he could find signs of magic. Gareth, the farmer, had been extremely cooperative.

“I saw it with my very eyes, sir, it was that knight an’ his companion,” the farmer said. “Emrys, the witch called him. An’ the knight, he’s jus’ called the Red Knight. He’s the one rumours speak about, from that village with the children.”

“And what did they do?” Arthur asked.

“I dunno how, but that Red Knight, he managed to convince that witch to stop her enchantments that was cursin’ us with vines and thorns. Everywhere in the hills! I couldn’t go to my fields!”

“Are you saying the Red Knight and Emrys helped your farm?” Arthur inquired.

“Yes m’lord. They helped us a great deal. Then that witch was all angry and she was going to say a spell, but that Emrys…”

Arthur frowned and didn’t ask anything more. Merlin threw the man a suspecting look. It didn’t happen like this. Mary hadn’t threatened anyone.

Sir Leon asked: “What did he do? That ‘Emrys’?”

“He used magic to silence her. I can never thank him enough. Who knows what that witch would’ve done! And then him and the knight said they would make sure the witch left the kingdom,” the farmer replied, an innocent expression on his face.

Arthur, surprisingly, stayed silent. His expression was perfectly schooled; Merlin couldn’t decipher his thoughts on his face as he usually did.

“Sire,” Leon said. “If that Red Knight is harbouring a sorcerer and helping others escape, then he’s a criminal. Maybe we should bring that good farmer to the king so that he can tell his story.”

* * *

‘Stupid little imbecilic loyal knight, Leon, surely, you could’ve chosen any other day to be this much of a daft idiot who does everything he’s supposed to.’ Merlin knew he wasn’t charitable with such thoughts. He knew very well Leon had said what was expected of him, and it was even surprising that Arthur hadn’t said it before him.

But he couldn’t not be angry at Leon. If Red was captured because of that farmer… Merlin would have to free him, and pretend he enchanted the knight for his own purposes if necessary. In any case, Merlin would apologise to the knight for putting him in danger.

And that farmer… Merlin surreptitiously studied his face. Behind the pleasant expression of his face, he could see the undertones of smug self-satisfaction. He’d planned this. He wasn’t happy that Merlin and Red had stopped him from killing the old sorceress, and the patrol had offered him his vengeance on a silver plate. If only Red hadn’t started the rumours in Avenford, the king would never have believed that man. But now, he would definitely start searching for them.

* * *

Under his courtly mask, Arthur was anxious. He was certain no one would ever associate him, Prince Arthur of Camelot, and the Red Knight the farmer was going to report to the king, but he couldn’t stop thinking that if anyone, _anyone_ had seen him, he would be arrested. The consequences would be disastrous. He was almost certain his father wouldn’t execute him, since he wasn’t practising magic himself, but the king wasn’t above disinheriting him or locking him up. Not to mention the consequences to the stability of the kingdom. When Morgana, the king’s ward had been found helping the druid boy escape, stopping the rumours from spreading had been a _nightmare_. The guards had been thoroughly bribed by Arthur and threatened by the king, and they had been only a few to actually know the identity of the person under the cloak, Arthur had made sure of it. If the Prince was found harbouring a sorcerer, there would be no way to keep the matter discreet.

Which left Arthur wondering what to do next. Should he hide his cloak and armour, and never use them again? Should the Red Knight vanish into thin air, never to be seen again?

Should he let Emrys face the consequences alone, and not even aware that the king would soon be looking for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter to make up for not being able to write or post anything tomorrow. Not that I’m actually trying to post every day, because I’m not. I just have a lot of inspiration these days.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the Prince was found harbouring a sorcerer, there would be no way to keep the matter discreet.
> 
> Which left Arthur wondering what to do next. Should he hide his cloak and armour, and never use them again? Should the Red Knight vanish into thin air, never to be seen again?
> 
> Should he let Emrys face the consequences alone, and not even aware that the king would soon be looking for him?

Of course the king believed the farmer. Why wouldn’t he? The man was telling a very good horror story: a witch, a wizard, a fighter in a red cape that looked distastefully similar to the Knights of Camelot’s attire, an innocent farmer trying to protect his dear daughter. It had the advantage of solving the problem of mysterious people fighting creatures of magic, thereby ridiculing the courageous Knights of Camelot by succeeding where they had failed. Now the Red Knight wasn’t a hidden, courageous hero as the rumours had painted him, but a criminal, a traitor, and a dangerous impostor, as the king said.

Arthur was feeling sick. He knew his father didn’t want to hurt him with his words… but they rang true. When he associated himself with Emrys, first by keeping secret information about him, then by willingly accompanying him to find that… water fairy, he betrayed his father and his education. When he helped Emrys protect the old sorceress Mary, and then saved Emrys’ life, _saved his life!_ , he deepened the betrayal.

His father had no idea what he was talking about, and the farmer’s story was a heap of rubbish, but it didn’t matter. Arthur was a traitor, and that was Emrys’ fault.

The worst was that he didn’t regret anything. He knew, deep down, that he wasn’t enchanted to feel this way. He’d made these decisions with a full control on his mind, and if he ever had the chance to come back to these moments, to change anything, to rewrite any of his choices, he wouldn’t do anything differently.

He’d still choose to betray his father.

Suppressing the urge to shake himself, Arthur forced his attention back to the king.

“Arthur, you are tasked with finding the culprits, the so-called Red Knight and Emrys. I cannot let this blatant use of sorcery unpunished. Interrogate everyone, I want to know how much is true about these rumours,” Uther ordered. “You have the unlimited funds of the crown. Make sure to use them wisely.”

Ah, that last sentence meant Arthur had very limited funds and would have to make do with them. And of course no one would tell him about the limit to the funds. As a future ruler, he was supposed to know how much this was supposed to cost. Which he knew very well, and he also knew Uther would allot him half of that still expecting results, and only make the rest available if Arthur really needed it. The king liked to test him.

But in that case, Arthur had to fail. He had considered turning Emrys in, and he wasn’t sure of his decision about him yet, but in any case no one, _no one_ could know Arthur was the Red Knight.

“Merlin, prepare the horses,” Arthur said. “We ride to the villages where the rumours started.”

His father stopped the servant with a gesture. Turning to Arthur, the king said “You are not going anywhere. Arthur, you will soon be coming of age, and you must act as a future king, as a statesman. Your place is in Camelot, and you cannot use the first excuse to ride out. If you need to go somewhere, send knights. If you need to speak to someone, summon them. A king cannot afford to be in the first lines. You must learn to command from afar.”

And here Arthur thought he’d go out of the citadel again.

“But, father, I’m the First Knight of Camelot. I’ve been trained to participate in these missions since birth, why couldn’t I go now?”

Was this again about his near-death from the Questing Beast’s bite?

The king frowned. “It is my pride that you’re the best warrior in the Five Kingdoms. But that title tells nothing of your abilities as a commander. The day will come when you face two enemies and cannot fight both of them yourself at the same time. This day, you will have to rely on your armies to carry your orders and do what they must. Until you’ve proven to me that you can command without being present, and choose men who will carry your orders from afar, you are to stay in Camelot and complete your tasks from here.”

Arthur bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

* * *

Merlin was trying his best to keep his emotions in check. That rotten farmer told everyone a twisted version of what had really happened to appear as an innocent, defenceless peasant saved by a knight. Clever. Had he directly accused a knight of consorting with sorcerers, Uther would’ve thrown him in a cell and forgotten him there.

Now the king wanted him and Red dead, and while Merlin didn’t care about the death threat on himself anymore, he refused to let the Red Knight put himself in danger for his association with him. He sighed. They’d made such progress. In contrast with his initial rejection, fear, and hatred, the Knight had started to accept Merlin’s magic, first as a last resort in which he had little choice, like in Avenford, then as an appreciated help in the labyrinth. He had even listened to Mary’s story, accepted her tea and let her leave the country in peace.

And he had saved Merlin’s life.

The young warlock was still baffled by the Red Knight’s action. He knew very well Red still considered him a thorn in his back, a sorcerer of unknown motives who appeared to help him once in a while, mocked him and left without a trace (Merlin was extremely careful with that).

With Merlin stabbed by a pitchfork, Red would’ve been rid of a problem. No one would’ve stopped him from killing the next sorceress who had the stupidity of putting him in an illusory maze. He wouldn’t have to worry about Merlin’s secret plans to conquer Camelot and harm people and curse crops and probably kick some puppy because sorcerers are evil. Or whatever horrors he was imagining. And he could’ve seen Merlin’s face and identified him, just in case he hadn’t died.

So why had he saved his life?

Merlin had only one answer: unlike the Knights of Camelot, this one saw honour and life debt as applying with and to sorcerers. Which meant even though he resented Merlin’s magic, he felt indebted to him for… probably for that bit of healing Merlin had performed after their first meeting.

In any case, the Red Knight was now considered a criminal by the kingdom, and he probably didn’t even know about it. Merlin had to inform him of Arthur’s new task, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea how he’d do it. Where could he find him? Usually, they met only when a threat to the people was neglected by the king.

Maybe Gaius would have an idea. If he didn’t advise Merlin to stay out of it for his own sake.

When Arthur dismissed him after the meeting with the king, he made his way to the old man’s chambers.

“Gaius,” he called after closing the door. “I need to find the Red Knight.”

The old man lifted his gaze from the potion he was examining with a critical eye. He wasn’t in the council room when the king had heard Gareth’s story, and didn’t know the most recent developments.

“What are you talking about, Merlin?”

“Well Arthur is looking for us, so I need to tell him that we must be careful, and I don’t know how to find him, so I’m asking you.”

“… Clear as mud. Maybe you could start from the beginning?” Gaius commented.

Merlin drew a deep breath. “I told you about the Red Knight, right? Last night, I found him in a hedge maze in the fields of that peasant’s daughter’s father…”

“The farmer who sent his daughter to complain about a witch?” Gaius asked.

“Yes! So I helped Red out of the maze and we met the witch.”

“Are you calling him ‘Red’ now? You’re making friends with a _knight_ who wants you dead?” Gaius noted while his right eyebrow raised slowly.

“I don’t think he wants me dead,” Merlin objected. “I was about to say, he let me convince the sorceress to leave the kingdom in peace. And when the farmer objected and attacked us, he saved my life.”

“You must be careful, Merlin. I trust you still don’t understand his motivations? And why do you need to find him? And what does Arthur have to do with it?” Gaius asked.

“The farmer may have manipulated the king into going after us.”

“Surely Uther wouldn’t believe a farmer over a knight?” Gaius objected.

Merlin winced. “He pretended to be grateful for our intervention.”

“Ah.”

“And now he’s tasked Arthur with finding us and arresting us for treason!”

“Merlin, you know that’s the risk of using magic openly. As Emrys, you’re safe as long as no one knows your real name. The Red Knight has to know this as well.”

“But he doesn’t even know Uther is aware of my magic! And no one has ever mentioned us as accomplices before! He doesn’t know he’s considered a criminal for consorting with me!”

“Not so loud, Merlin!” Gaius bellowed. “Now is not the time to act foolishly! The Red Knight can always pretend he was enchanted. You, on the other hand, have to keep your head down more than ever!”

“It’d be safer to warn him,” Merlin insisted.

Gaius sighed. “At least promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will, Gaius. You know me.”

“Yes Merlin. And that’s why I’m asking for your promise,” Gaius deadpanned.

The sass in his mentor’s voice told Merlin he’d won the argument. He grinned and asked “Now, do you have any idea about finding him?”

“Not really. Have you any clue about where he lives?”

“I’ve never followed him. Couldn’t I use magic?”

“You mean scrying? No, Merlin. Not only is it reckless to use magic when the king is looking for a sorcerer, especially if Arthur is doing the research, but it’s also a difficult field of magic. You would need time to learn it.”

Merlin’s shoulders dropped. “Any better idea?”

Gaius thought for a while. “How curious… You met the Red Knight every time a threat was mentioned to the king’s court. Maybe the Red Knight has a contact there? Someone who informs him?”

“Then what should I do?”

“Find them, and feed Red some information through them. You may find a way to meet him.”

Merlin nodded and left the room.

Later that day, he made sure to mention to as many people as possible that he was worried because the path to go to Ealdor seemed blocked, apparently by a monster.

If the Red Knight got the news, he might go to this road himself. And Merlin would warn him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for taking so long to update, I was super busy and found no time to write. But now I organized my notes for the next chapters, so my schedule should be better. I won't post every day though.
> 
> And yup, Arthur is starting to call Uther ‘my lord’ and thinks of him as ‘the king’ and ‘Uther’ more frequently, instead of mostly ‘his father’.  
> Having said father call your alias a criminal and a traitor, and indirectly asking for your death, kinda helps with the realisation that he’s not a very good person. And this time, Catrina isn’t even here, so he can't blame Uther’s cold-hearted words on her enchantments.
> 
> I know Uther usually sends Arthur on dangerous missions and all, so him not wanting Arthur to leave Camelot seems exaggerated. However, when Cornelius Sigan attacks roughly one year after the Questing Beast thing, Uther is still quite protective of Arthur when he faces the gargoyles. Contrast with the _Lancelot_ episode when Uther sends Arthur against the unkillable griffin.  
> I assumed he’d be really overprotective (in his typical, Uthery way) just after the bite. (And it nicely justifies Arthur repeatedly disguising as Red to save the kingdom)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that day, Merlin made sure to mention to as many people as possible that he was worried because the path to go to Ealdor seemed blocked, apparently by a monster.
> 
> If the Red Knight got the news, he might go to this road himself. And Merlin would warn him there.

Merlin was pacing nervously in Gaius’ chambers, making the old man dizzy and reeling.

“What’s gotten into you, Merlin?”

“He’s not coming! I’ve been waiting on the road to Ealdor for five nights now, and he’s not coming!” the young man snapped.

“Maybe he hasn’t got the news?”

“I told everyone! Even Morgana, Gwen, Arthur, the other servants, the guards, some of the knights who don’t mind listening to me… while other knights were around… He _has_ to know there’s a monster on this road, and he’s not coming!” Merlin almost yelled, tugging at his hair with his hands.

“Stop fretting. Maybe he’s aware that the king declared him a traitor, and he’s staying somewhere safe.”

“And maybe he’s been captured and killed!”

“Uther would want a public execution here, in Camelot. If anyone had captured the Red Knight, we would know,” Gaius reassured him.

“Why isn’t he coming?” Merlin asked.

“I don’t know, my boy. Perhaps my hypothesis was wrong? He could have all the information without being a member of the court himself.”

“But the dates? Every time I met him, it was just after someone informed the king of the problem. But I stayed there every night, he should’ve come. I should’ve seen him. I need to warn him, Gaius. I can’t let him die because of me. Not after almost getting Gwen burnt with my poultice, last time. Not after everything that happened.”

“I know, Merlin,” the old physician said. Then, after a pause: “You said he had to be there. That he had to hear the information.”

“Yes. Did you think of something?”

“Maybe. What if he was there… but you weren’t?”

“I was there every night, almost from sunset to sunrise!” Merlin protested. The dark circles under his eyes were proof of his claim. Even Arthur had noticed them.

“Yes, so if he came, and you didn’t meet him…”

“Then he went there during the day.” Merlin’s shoulders hunched. “So we failed. We can’t warn him.”

“Not this way, I’m afraid.”

* * *

Arthur was pacing in his chambers. What was Merlin doing?! He was supposed to be there at noon with lunch! And there was the sun, high in the sky, and Merlin was who knew where doing who knew what, but not in Arthur’s chambers and not serving lunch. Groaning, the prince went to his windows. Perhaps looking at the courtyard would bring him the stroke of genius he desperately needed.

He wanted to contact Emrys. He had to warn him. And he had no idea how. He didn’t know where the man lived, where he spent his time, whether he travelled in the kingdom or not.

But guessing Emrys’ location was useless anyway. The sorcerer was certainly not stupid enough to live in the citadel where Arthur was trapped. Besides, Arthur would’ve seen him while sneaking out of Camelot, right? And wouldn’t they take the same road when coming back from their adventures? Arthur distinctly remembered going in opposite directions after fighting the river spirit.

At least Arthur knew the sorcerer hadn’t been arrested yet. Patrolling knights were under specific orders to take him alive to obtain information on his accomplices. Not that Arthur thought they could catch him. He had to admit that for all his annoying traits, Emrys was actually good at surviving and fighting. Jokingly, Arthur thought he should worry about the knights instead, before realising that Emrys would be able to kill some of the knights if he really wanted to. Especially if they attacked him.

He really needed to warn him.

And he couldn’t.

As he was coming to this conclusion, the door to his chambers was flung open. Only two people entered his rooms without knocking: the king, and…

There he was. Merlin, entering with a large tray full of diverse foods that could more or less be related to the concept of lunch: sweet porridge, chicken, two or three of the honey buns he usually ate for breakfast, cheese, an apple, grated carrot in a bowl, and a pitcher of water. The ensemble looked as if Merlin had grabbed a little bit of everything before rushing to his chambers. Arthur glanced at him. His fr… manservant looked a bit tired, as he had these past few days. Grunting at the sight of the quite unusual lunch, Arthur sat down at his table and started his meal.

After a while, he noticed Merlin was really out of it this day: when he asked for water, Merlin passed him the salt. After being called three times. He said nothing, knowing very well he wouldn’t control himself if he started yelling. He had to stay calm. No one could suspect anything. He needed to stay calm, really.

And then Merlin dropped a spoon while leaving the room, staining the stone floor with sauce.

“ _MERLIN!_ Are you so incompetent that you can’t keep anything _on_ the tray once in a while?” he yelled.

It was unfair. He knew it was unfair as soon as it got past his lips. Which didn’t stop Merlin from yelling back.

“You’re never happy with anything I do! I’m trying my best, and…”

“Your _best_? Half of what you served would be better in a _breakfast_ , and now you drop stuff on my floor! Not to mention your poor sense of time.”

“Look, it may have escaped your notice, but I’m working two jobs at a time! I’m running errands for you, running errands for Gaius, completing chores for you, gathering herbs for Gaius, all the while learning to be a physician!”

What hadn’t escaped Arthur’s notice was that Merlin thoughtfully avoided mentioning all the times he went with the knights on patrol, or with Arthur on a mission. Those things definitely weren't in his job description, but he didn't mention them, probably to avoid rubbing salt in the wound of Arthur being locked up in the castle. It quelled his anger a bit, but not much. Coldly, Arthur replied “I sent a patrol on the road to Ealdor. They didn’t find any sign of a monster. Your mother can come to Camelot if she wants to, the road is safe.”

This seemed to surprise Merlin. “Really?”

“Yes. And, Merlin. Next time, maybe don’t listen to the first drunkard who rambles about a monster in the woods or a sorcerer setting his trade on the road to your village.” Muttering, he added “You should know I have enough to do with real sorcerers.”

He couldn’t decipher the puzzling expression on his manservant’s face as the younger man left the room.

* * *

For the second time today, Merlin was pacing in Gaius’ chambers.

“Merlin, what is it now?” the old man asked with a longsuffering gaze. “Don’t you have chores?”

“Arthur is determined to hunt us down. Me and the Red Knight.”

“You mentioned he was supposed to do it. What’s new then?”

“I had an argument with him today. He said he sent a patrol on the road to Ealdor, that they found no monster, that I was incompetent, like he’s competent himself even though I have to go around hunting all these monsters for him, or saving his life, which he _still_ has to thank me for, by the way…”

Gaius interrupted his rant. “Mer-lin. From the beginning, if you want me to understand.”

“Arthur said he sent a patrol on the road, so all the knights should know there’s no monster there now.”

“And now you know why the Red Knight didn’t go there,” Gaius commented.

“And then he told me to stop believing drunkards about made-up sorcerers, because he had to deal with real ones. He was thinking about something when I arrived, something that had him so captivated! I had never seen him like that,” Merlin explained.

“It is true that Uther expects him to succeed in this. He made it sound like he’d allow Arthur to leave Camelot again if he managed it,” Gaius said.

A stray thought “Gaius, he even said I should know real sorcerers give him enough work. Do you think he suspects me?”

“Nonsense. He has no reason to suspect you, with the spells you use to hide. You didn’t fall asleep while waiting on the road, these last nights, did you?”

Merlin gave it some thought. “I don’t think so,” he finally answered with a great deal of hesitation. “If I have, then it wouldn’t have been a sleep deep enough to miss knights coming around me.”

“Try not to worry about it. Even the Red Knight doesn’t suspect your identity, and they might be a member of the court. Arthur has no reason to believe that you live in Camelot, and that’s a good thing.”

“No sorcerer in their right mind would live here,” Merlin quipped to hide his discomfort.

“Indeed,” Gaius deadpanned. “Now go. Try to catch up on some sleep before you go help Arthur tonight. You look like a corpse.”

* * *

After trying to look at the problem in every possible way for a whole afternoon, Arthur was still stuck with no solution.

Sighing, he resolved to ask his best contact for advice. Said… advisor had always been unpredictable in the past, but he hoped he could explain his problem in a roundabout way to avoid arousing suspicion, and get an answer that he could work with to achieve his goal.

He left his chambers, taking all his time to close the doors and steel himself. It might be a difficult conversation, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. His contact was quite perceptive, and he wasn’t sure this wouldn’t end up with him being exposed. He tried reassuring himself by reminding him that the one he’d meet would most certainly take the side of the magic users against Uther anyway.

During the whole trip through the corridors, he planned every word he’d say, every question he’d be asked, and every answer he’d give. He wouldn’t let himself get trapped by his own words.

But soon, too soon, he found himself arriving in front of the door. Straightening his posture, he knocked on the wood.

Morgana opened her door. “Arthur,” she greeted. “To what do I owe this… pleasure?”

“Morgana. I came to ask for your advice on a complicated and most urgent matter.” Beating around the bush was useless with her, as she would soon figure out his motivations.

His directness seemed to pay off, as she immediately brightened. “Really?” she asked. “I can’t believe you of all people would come to me of all people, and for advice no less. Please, Arthur, enter.”

“Thank you, Morgana,” he managed to say with no trace of annoyance in his voice, despite the predictable taunt. He followed her into her chambers and casually closed the door.

As soon as they were sitting at her table, she turned an inquisitive gaze at him. He silently blessed her for keeping the teasing and taunting to the minimal level one could expect from almost-siblings, and started explaining the contorted analogy he came up with.

“There is a person I wish to contact discreetly, but I have no way of doing so. I cannot even give you their name or current whereabouts, and I need to bring them a message that I cannot write down for the sake of discretion and prudence,” he explained. “I…”

Seeing her smirk, he interrupted himself. She took the opportunity to say “I think I know what, and who, you’re talking about.”

That was exactly what he was afraid of. Ever since they lived in the same castle, she had had this uncanny ability to figure him out in a few seconds, no matter how much he perfected his inexpressive courtly face. Feeling his guts constricting with fear, he tried to keep a neutral tone as he asked “You do?”

“Yes, I do. I find it endearing that you’re willing to defy tradition and your father’s opinion, because your heart tells you to. What was the message?”

An insidious doubt struck Arthur. Had she really guessed about his disguise and his ‘missions’ with Emrys, or was it a sly way of bringing him to say more? He knew she was clever, curious, and sometimes remorseless when she was certain to be right. And her sentences were evasive enough.

“I cannot tell you that, Morgana.”

“Why not? I could even pass it for you, just this once. As a favour, for coming to me,” she offered.

The offer was puzzling. Not only did she volunteer her help almost immediately, but she also implied she knew Emrys and could even contact him! Unless she was speaking of something else entirely. Unfortunately, he’d have to explain himself to check what she was referring to, and it was out of the question. He briefly thought of asking _her_ to be clearer, but if her thoughts were far enough from the real matter to surprise him, she would see it and demand explanations. Which would only lead to disaster: he wouldn’t answer and had no believable lie at the ready, she wouldn’t back down, neither would he, shouting would happen, Uther would hear of it and question them both.

“I’m sorry, Morgana, but I really can’t tell you. Would you mind simply transmitting my greetings to this person if you ever come across them, then?”

With an impish, knowing smirk, she replied “Of course, Arthur. Have a pleasant day.”

He left her room, less sure about what she was talking about than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgana knows things. *waggles eyebrows knowingly*
> 
> Yeah! I finally introduced a “new” character! I love the good Morgana (as in, season 1-2 Morgana), she simply is the best. Maybe, one day, we’ll know what she knows.
> 
> … Keeping spoilers hidden is hard.


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur could never thank the merchant enough.

He had spotted the man squirming in the courtyard, looking insistently in his direction while he was coming back to the castle with Merlin. Interpreting the man’s discomfort as hesitation to speak to the prince in public, he had sent Merlin to assist Gaius before gesturing him to come closer. After two steps, the man had tripped over his own feet and lost a pouch of silver coins. Several of them had rolled in one of the gridded drains leading to the dungeon cells below. The man had dropped to his knees to gather his coins. When he got up, the left knee of his breeches had a large tear.

The man seemed about to burst into tears. He closed his eyes tightly for a second, as if trying to deny the existence of the whole world, and carefully approached the prince.

“Who are you?” Arthur asked. “What business brings you to the citadel? Did you wish to talk to me?”

“Business, my lord, is hardly possible for me at the moment,” the man started. “I am an honest merchant, coming all the way from Gedref to sell my wares, and while I was walking on the road, minding my business, I was cursed with the evil eye.”

Arthur only raised a disbelieving eyebrow in a mediocre impersonation of Gaius, unwilling to deal with a delusional fool at this time of day.

The merchant, sensing his doubts, spoke faster. “I am cursed, my lord, cursed with the evil eye, I’m telling you! You saw me fall to the ground. Ever since I’ve seen this old man, I’ve been falling, tripping over air, losing some of my most precious wares, my bags broke, my clothes were ripped by thorns and rocks…”

A quick glance at the man confirmed his claim. His clothes looked like he came from the other side of Nemeth, not just the lands of Gedref that bordered the other kingdom, and yet his shoes weren’t worn enough to suggest such a long travel. The fabric was fitting of a well-enough merchant selling some high-quality goods along with more common items, and he was bearing a bag in which diverse objects were clanking. Following Arthur’s look, the merchant explained “I left most of my wares at the inn where I’m staying, my lord, but these are some of my most treasured goods. Given the state I am in, I cannot bear to leave them behind.”

“You mentioned an old man. How do you know he was cursing you?”

“I don’t know, my lord, I just saw him appear out of nowhere and I ran for my life! I was terrified. And then I started having strokes of bad luck, my lord, all the time. I was hoping, my lord, if you could ask the king to listen to my pleas?”

This was the perfect opportunity. If there was a sorcerer attacking innocent merchants on their way to Camelot, Emrys would surely lurk around him, as he’d done with Maureen. Or was it Mabel? The sorceress who had created the thorn maze.

And perhaps Arthur could find him. It was a long shot, but perhaps it would work. But first, stop the man from reporting to Uther.

“You call me ‘my lord’. Do you know who I am?” Arthur asked.

“N-no, my lord,” the man confessed, trembling and shaking.

“I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot. It would be better not to bother the king with your problem right now. His majesty is currently extremely busy with matters of the state. But fear not, I will make sure something is done to solve your problems,” Arthur told the man. “What’s your name?”

“Trevor, my lord.”

“Very well, Trevor. For now, –”

He was going to tell the man to go back to his inn, when Trevor tried to bow. And managed to trip, drop his bag, walk on it while trying to regain his balance, and fall to the ground flailing his arms in the air helplessly.

Immediately, his face blanched, and he held his ankle with his hands. He started wailing softly, and Arthur knew he had twisted his ankle. He gestured to a guard to come help the man on his feet.

“Trevor, Owen here will bring you to our Court Physician, Gaius. He’ll treat your ankle. Owen, tell Merlin he can stay with Gaius to help him with this man. I won’t require his services anymore today.”

Perfect. Now Merlin would be out of the picture too, and Arthur would be able to sneak out of the castle grounds after nightfall.

* * *

Merlin had left the castle an hour before sunset, under the pretence of collecting herbs for Gaius. Arthur had given him the rest of the day off, officially to help the old man heal some merchant.

Said merchant had come early in the afternoon. Merlin had noticed him in the courtyard, right before Arthur had sent him away. Merlin had first suspected the man was a spy or a contact working for Arthur to uncover Emrys and Red. But then the stranger had arrived in Gaius’ chambers with a twisted ankle and a guard, Owen, looking quite annoyed. As the man had lowered in a cot in the physician’s chambers, Owen had muttered to Merlin that the stranger, Trevor, was a trouble magnet. Growling, he explained that he had managed to fall in the stairs twice, trip over his own feet five times, knock down a laundress’ basket of freshly cleaned shirts right in a pile of dust, and drop his bag countless times.

The memory of Owen’s disgruntled comment brought a smile on Merlin’s face. Trevor was definitely cursed. Even Merlin wasn’t as clumsy.

What was surprising, though, was that Arthur had sent the man away and promised to help him later. Would it be because he didn’t want the unlucky man anywhere near the king? Whatever the answer, Trevor was a gods-send to Merlin. As Gaius was patching him up, he had babbled endlessly about his wares, his living place, his curse, the king, the prince, his story, would Arthur really help him, his wares again, would the physician buy something from him, the castle kitchens, his travel to Camelot and what the curse had brought upon him… And that he had told everyone about his problems.

Upon hearing this, Merlin had immediately thought of the Red Knight. If there was the slightest chance that he’d heard of the merchant’s misfortune… then Merlin had to go to Gedref.

As he was nearing a group of trees Trevor had mentioned in his story, he recognised a well-known figure in a large cloak, waiting for him.

It wasn’t Red. And whenever the knight arrived, he wouldn’t like it.

* * *

Under the moonlight, Arthur spotted the massive walls of the Labyrinth of Gedref. The last time he went there, he had tried sacrificing himself for Merlin and drinking what was merely a sleeping draft, and not a deadly poison as he first believed. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do such brave and reckless acts for Emrys this time. While he appreciated the sorcerer’s help, and felt grateful for every time the man had saved his life, he wasn’t sure he’d gladly drink ‘poison’ again, even to repay his life debt. The man was still a sorcerer, and legally a traitor. Just as much as Arthur himself, then.

He shook his head to dismiss his own concerns. What were the chances Anhora was involved in the recent events?

With that in mind, he kept going on the road and arrived near the small group of trees Trevor had described him when he had interrogated him in the early evening, after spotting Merlin leaving the castle, undoubtedly on a mission to gather herbs for Gaius.

Two figures were waiting for him: Emrys… and Anhora. Arthur groaned. He should’ve known the keeper of the unicorns would be there. Was he living in the Labyrinth?

Was _Emrys_ living in the Labyrinth?

Arthur dismounted, attached his horse and strode towards the two men.

“Red,” called Emrys. “You’re here!”

“Someone is causing some magical mischief. Of course I’m here. And of course, you’re here too. Is this one of your friends?” he asked casually, still fishing for details about Emrys’ life.

“Not really. Red Knight, let me introduce you to Anhora, keeper of the unicorns. Anhora, meet the Red Knight. He has helped me in the past, and will probably help me again. Will you?” Emrys asked Arthur.

“Tell me first, keeper of the unicorns. Are your in any way involved in the curse that fell upon the merchant Trevor?” Arthur asked.

Anhora shook his head. “He brought this curse upon himself. He hurt a unicorn. Fortunately, he didn’t kill it, otherwise he would face a much more dire curse.” He looked at Arthur and Emrys intently, as if he knew more than them. “The two of you might remember a recent, similar curse that was brought upon the kingdom of Camelot by the violent death of a unicorn. I trust you both remember it quite well, actually. In that case, you should both know that the curse was lifted when the culprit made amends by showing the purity of his heart.”

Emrys didn’t show any surprise. Was he aware of Arthur’s mistake and trials? Was it a magic thing, or was he just spying on Camelot?

Anhora kept giving his explanations. “The curse has been attached to the goods this man was hoping to sell, for his act of violence was committed with the intention of cutting and selling the unicorn’s horn. For the spell to be lifted, the merchant must abandon some his most precious goods for one who needs them most. Fear not, for when he does, the person who receives the item will not face the same curse. It gives me no pleasure to see him in pain, but he fled without listening to my advice.”

“He told me you appeared in front of him and cursed him while he was minding his own business!” Arthur protested, forgetting caution and revealing he’d spoken to the merchant himself.

“He lied. I found him with a knife above the horn of a unicorn foal. He had seen him grazing nearby and captured him with a rope.”

Anhora had always been trustworthy before, and Arthur knew the curse he’d caused himself wasn’t even the keeper’s doing. He decided he could believe him over Trevor. Now he had a way of helping the man and ending his curse before it reached the king’s ears.

And Emrys was right there.

“Thank you, Anhora,” he said. “We will make sure Trevor learns his lesson when he breaks the curse.”

The keeper nodded, bowed slightly in front of Emrys, and vanished.

“Emrys, can I talk to you for a second?” Arthur said.

* * *

When the Red Knight asked to talk to him, Merlin knew it was the perfect opportunity. “I need to tell you something too. It’s really important.”

Red stopped what he was about to say. Under his helmet, he looked at Merlin and nodded. “Go on.”

“Gareth went to the king of Camelot and told him about us saving Mary. The king declared us both traitors. I’m sorry, Red. You’re considered a criminal now.”

Red kept silent for a second, probably taken aback by the news. After all, Uther had ruined his reputation as a wandering knight.

“And how exactly do you know that?” Red asked.

Merlin had been certain Red wouldn’t want to believe him. It was easier not to. He felt a bit disappointed that Red behaved like a coward in the face of the truth, though. “I’m not lying. Really. The king knows.”

“I know that,” Red replied tersely. “What I’m asking, is how _you_ know it. I was coming here to find you and tell you.”

“So was I! I’ve been trying to find you for a week! Prince Arthur is looking for us, I was worried he’d found you!”

“How did you know, Emrys?!” Red almost shouted.

Ah. Damn. The Red Knight was expecting an answer, and Merlin had none. ‘I’m Merlin, the Prince Arthur’s manservant’ was out of the question. ‘I was in the throne room when he said it, dummy’ too. Maybe he could…

“Are you spying on Camelot?” Red asked.

“… Yes,” Merlin lied. “Sometimes I scry on the throne room. That’s how I know when the king’s not going to bother helping his people.”

“Is that part of your plans? Are you trying to learn secrets of the kingdom?”

“What?! Certainly not! Look, if I wanted to destroy Camelot, or whatever you think is my goal, I wouldn’t need to spy on it. I’d simply let the creatures of magic ruin the crops and upset the people. And if I were in a hurry, I could tear it apart myself in a matter of days. I’m not spying on the king to learn state secrets. I’m picking up his messes. Reminds me of my job.”

Red kept silent for a second, then said in a warmer tone “I believe you. I’m not sure I’m right to, but I do.”

“Thank you.”

“You said picking up messes reminded you of your job? What is your job exactly?”

“I’m working for a stupid noble, so of course I’m picking up messes on a daily basis,” Merlin replied. “I won’t tell you anything else, though. I wouldn’t want you to find out my real name.”

“You know I will eventually.”

Merlin sighed dramatically, not deigning replying.

“Let me deal with the merchant,” Red offered.

“Are you sure? I’m the sorcerer, shouldn’t I take care of the curse-breaking?”

“I will do it. I have a plan.”

“Does it involve getting captured or killed?” Merlin asked casually.

“No, you fool. My plans are flawless,” Red said. “Unless a sorcerer barges in to spread chaos and mayhem,” he quickly added, effectively cutting Merlin’s snarky remarks.

“Alright then. I’ll give you an hour.”

“An hour?”

“You came from the same road as me. Given that we’re in Gedref, there were few other possibilites, but I still don’t want you to find out where I live – no, still not a cave, nor a hovel – so I’m letting you go first. See you later, Red. I’ll try to think of a way to contact you.”

“Good bye, Emrys. I suppose you won’t leave the kingdom? It’d put my mind to rest.”

“Not a chance. I still have unfinished business here. I’ve got to conquer Camelot, right?” Merlin deadpanned.

“Very funny.”

After these last words, the Red Knight took his horse and left. Merlin sat in the grass to wait out the hour he’d promised Red. He’d solved two problems tonight: the Red Knight was already aware of the king’s arrest warrant, and…

Wait.

How did _Red_ know about the arrest warrant?!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Knight took his horse and left. Merlin sat in the grass to wait out the hour he’d promised Red. He’d solved two problems tonight: the Red Knight was already aware of the king’s arrest warrant, and…  
> Wait.  
> How did _Red_ know about the arrest warrant?!

Arthur came to his chambers incensed. Today’s open session in the throne room had seen a group of peasants from the northern outskirts of Camelot plead to the king for help. Apparently, an unidentified but undeniably magical creature was destroying large patches of crops, ensuring a poor harvest and a poor winter. His father had promised to replace the missing crops, but then a pompous lord had reminded him that the other main farming region of the kingdom, in the southwest, had not fared well either this year. Arthur had offered to go get rid of the creature and the king had silenced him harshly once again. This was getting ridiculous, and he didn’t buy the excuse of having to learn how to delegate and control from afar anymore. He could very well understand that the Questing Beast had almost killed him and that as a father, Uther wanted him safe, but his safety had never been the king’s main concern until now if the tournaments, missions, raids and battles he had sent Arthur to were any indication. The prince supposed having seen his son closer to death than he’d ever been had changed his father’s point of view.

To take his mind off the king’s infuriating behaviour, he had planned to train the knights harder than usual. Unfortunately, a series of accidents had prevented any real physical activity. A stupid knight had picked the damaged shield that needed replacement. Predictably, as soon as the damn thing had taken a hit from a mace, it had broken in two, letting the mace pierce the idiot’s vambrace and break his bones. Splinters of metal had landed in the wound. The knight had simply gritted his teeth and tried to finish the fight, and his arm had been twisted by the other clumsy dimwit serving as his opponent. Arthur had immediately stopped the training to take the poor sod to the Court Physician.

When Gaius had seen the state of the man’s arm, he had yelled and screamed and ranted about daft knights and their idiotic suicidal tendencies of hiding wounds and keeping on fighting when they really should go find someone to patch them up. The injured knight had looked sheepish, but Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling that a significant part of Gaius’ rant was also addressed to him, and he wasn’t proud of it. Indeed, the old man had thrown him a pointed look more than once while throwing his hands in the air and storming about the knights’ carelessness.

When Arthur had come back to the training grounds, he had found the remaining knights dilly-dallying in a patch of grass. Feeling a headache starting to build up in his skull, he had ordered them to run laps and then practice forms on training dummies. He should have tempered his yelling, if only to ensure that the training dummies would not be reduced to kindle and straw in a matter of minutes by too enthusiastic (or more likely frightened) warriors. And of course, the master of arms hadn’t ordered new batches of training dummies yet.

Pairing up the men to fight each other had taken some time as well, and when they had been ready to finally do some training, the low, menacing clouds above their heads had broken up and a heavy rain had started to pour on their heads.

Admitting that the situation was beyond any salvaging, Arthur had let his men go for the day. Merlin being away doing whatever chore he was supposed to do at this time, Arthur had had to remove his armour on his own, and had abandoned it in the armoury for his servant to pick up and polish later.

In conclusion, he hadn’t even started to break a sweat, and wasn’t in need of a bath. Except he really wanted one, if only to relax. At the door of his chambers he had closed his eyes and hoped Merlin was there, so he could send him to fetch hot water.

But the dark hair and clear eyes that were waiting for him inside were not those of his manservant. Morgana was there, sitting at his table with absolutely no shame on her face. “Arthur Pendragon,” she greeted in a cold tone.

Perfect. Nothing good had ever happened after people, especially Morgana, used his full name like this.

“Morgana,” he greeted back in a casual voice, hoping to placate her somewhat. “What can I do for you?”

Unsurprisingly, the placating bit didn’t work. “For me? Nothing. I’m not the one whose only source of food and revenue is being destroyed by some wretched creature.”

“Morgana…” he started.

“But you’re still here, not caring about your own people, leaving them to starve in the winter…”

“Morgana,” he tried again. To no avail.

“What are you, a shameless buffoon? Will you abandon your people so long as you have your plate full of whatever you want to stuff yourself with? For all the times I called you names, I never imagined they would be the pure truth, but there you are, hiding behind the castle walls!”

“Mor-gana!”

The rant stopped. Before she had the chance to start again, he reminded her “I offered to go!”

“And yet you won’t, since your father told you not to. Are you so afraid of your father that you refuse to do what’s right?”

“I can’t openly defy his orders all the time.”

“I really don’t see why that stops you. You do it whenever it suits your fancy.”

This line of thinking was a dead end. Arthur had to try something different. “I’ll remind you that other threats have been removed recently.”

“You speak of this mysterious knight? The criminal with the sorcerer? Are you telling me you’re happy to let someone else do the dirty work as long as you can stay here and have a good night’s sleep?”

He averted his gaze. “The beasts are killed, the villagers are safe. What would you change?”

She threw her arms in the air, but didn’t answer. She went to the window and looked at the courtyard below. After a moment, she came back to the table with a contained smirk on her lips. She poured herself a goblet of Arthur’s favourite wine, sat, and glanced at him. “So you’re happy to let someone else take all the glory?” She calmly sipped some wine, smirking behind the rim of the goblet.

Arthur spluttered, incapable of coming with a dignified reply.

Of course she had to go on. “It’s such a shame… The golden prince of Camelot will soon lose all his prestige in favour of some criminal…” she goaded him with a voice as sweet as honey. “Perhaps someone could persuade your father to name him First Knight in your stead while you’re staying at home to be pampered and coddled?”

As he was the Red Knight himself, he wouldn’t lose any glory anyway. He tried to tell himself this to avoid falling in her trap.

She tipped her head on the side. “That really doesn’t affect you? How strange. You used to be so proud of being the finest warrior in the Five Kingdoms. Did you really become a coward in the last months?” She looked at him intently. “No. It’s something else, isn’t it?”

“Are you done?” he asked.

“Certainly not.” She sipped some more wine. “How could you be so certain that the Red Knight would help these people?”

Damn. “I merely noted that the previous instances were…”

“Arthur,” she cut. “Your father may believe everything you say but I know when you’re making excuses.” She smirked. “You’re not very good at it. Almost as terrible as Merlin. And don’t pretend for a second you never asked him to lie for you. The two of you are beyond hope when it comes to making excuses.”

Arthur spluttered again. He knew he had no chance of escaping Morgana when she was determined like this.

“So you know the Red Knight, don’t you? But you decided not to turn him in. Which means you trust him…” She suddenly gasped.

Arthur sighed. She had guessed it.

Morgana had the good grace of looking sheepish. “You’re the Red Knight.”

“There’s no point in hiding it anymore, is it? Yes,” he sighed.

Unfortunately, finding out Arthur’s secret didn’t quell her anger. Quite the opposite, actually. “So you’ve found yourself a sorcerous friend to slay all these beasts for you? How can you stand in your father’s court every day while he’s ranting against magic? How can you look at your face in a mirror?”

“I met the man for the first time when I went after the chimera. I didn’t seek him out before, I didn’t expect him to help me then, and he’s definitely not my friend.”

“But you’re working with him now. And obviously you didn’t kill him. Or perhaps you’re waiting for the right moment?”

“He keeps showing up, whether I like it or not. I still have to go myself, I can’t just stay here and hope he’ll kill the creature anyway. And it would have been poor form of me to kill him. He saved my life with the chimera.”

“So you won’t double-cross him at some point?”

“I’m a knight, Morgana, I do have some honour.”

He then spent the next hour telling her about his adventures with Emrys. She promised to help him if he ever needed excuses or means to get out of the castle discreetly. Now that he was a criminal, he’d need all the help he could have. He just hoped the king would never discover Morgana’s involvement. After the mess with the druid boy, Uther would never forgive her.

* * *

Merlin was furious.

And pacing in Gaius’ chambers, which was starting to become a worryingly regular occurrence.

Once again, Uther had refused to help his people, and once again, Emrys would have to go save everyone on his own, with perhaps some help from Red. Since he’d learnt of the knight’s last feat, Merlin hoped he’d never see him again.

After their heated, then cold, then awkward with some attempts at humour discussion near the Labyrinth of Gedref, Merlin had come back to Camelot without a worry, trusting Red to find a solution to Trevor the merchant’s problem.

The next evening, when he had met Trevor at his inn to discuss the state of his ankle, the man had babbled about how Arthur had helped him get rid of his curse, had given him the solution to break the curse, and that Trevor had been quite lucky ever since.

In other words, Red had transmitted Anhora’s words to Arthur.

Which meant that the knight was _still_ in contact with the prince, even though Arthur was now supposed to capture him. Which would explain how he knew about the arrest warrant against them.

Merlin didn’t believe Arthur would go against Uther’s direct orders, especially when magic was involved. If Arthur had chosen not to capture Red, then he must’ve had a reason. Given that Red had already reported Merlin’s magic once, anyone less trusting than Merlin would easily imagine that he had agreed to report on ‘Emrys’ in exchange for his safety, his freedom, even a reward. Merlin chose not to believe it, though. It didn’t fit with what he knew of Red’s personality, and he couldn’t imagine Arthur doing something so sneaky. However, the Red Knight was carefree and foolish enough to contact Arthur himself. He was going to get the two of them killed. Suddenly, Merlin understood Gaius completely. Hopefully his mentor would never learn of Red’s recklessness. Convincing the old physician of letting Merlin go on incredibly dangerous adventures in which his magic was constantly at risk of being revealed was hard enough when someone else’s foolhardiness – that is, someone other than Arthur – was not an added risk.

Merlin shook himself to stop this train of thought – Red was an idiot and there was nothing he could do about it, except prepare a very good dressing-down to give him the next time they met. In the meantime, he had many areas of magic to study in preparation for his adventures.

It had occurred to him recently that the increasing dangers of his trips as Emrys meant he should prepare his fights, rather than learn skills in an _ad hoc_ manner every time a situation arose. Right now, he specifically needed to learn how to move across long distances quickly and discreetly, if only to reach the farthest parts of the kingdom without spending days of travel.

Gaius had firmly dismissed the idea of seven-league boots as unreliable, extravagant and hard to hide. He also mentioned the wind of fast travel turning cloaks into sails and undressing imprudent fools. And that Merlin should stop thinking like a child, for once. So far, Merlin hadn’t found a valid alternative. Teleportation was a complicated spell, one that needed some experience in scrying (the skill itself wasn’t needed, but it taught to mentally visualise the place you wanted to reach) and serious training. Merlin wouldn’t have the time. He needed to research the crop-destroying creature in Gaius’ books and bestiaries again, as he still had found no information on the creature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That broken shield was mentioned in Chp 5. It shouldn't have taken so long before it broke, but then I kept adding chapters before this one, or splitting one chapter into two, so let's just say it happened. 
> 
> Also, Morgana knows about Arthur now! She's gonna get involved in Red's adventures so much, you don't even know. 
> 
> I think I'm writing more of Arthur's POV than Merlin's. I hope it doesn't bother you too much, I'll try to write the two POVs equally.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teleportation was a complicated spell, one that needed some experience in scrying and serious training. Merlin wouldn’t have the time. He still had found no information on the creature.

“Merlin, my boy, did you find time to work on your spells?” Gaius asked.

“Not really,” Merlin sighed.

“Then how are you going to travel there?”

“Same as I always did?” Merlin answered.

“It’s three days away from Camelot! Merlin, you can’t reach it overnight and solve the problem as you did before! You were quite lucky so far, but luck can only work for some time. I hope you’re not relying on luck to protect your secret in Camelot?”

“No, Gaius, I’m careful, I swear. But I have to go, right? I can’t let the creature destroy the crops.”

“I’m afraid not. If it is left to its own devices, it will soon deplete the crops in the north and move somewhere else, destroy more crops. Food shortage would bring Camelot to its knees,” the old man answered wistfully. 

"I can defend myself on the road, Gaius."

"And what if you meet the Red Knight? What if he gets a look at your face while you sleep?"

"I read something about wards and alarm spells in my book. I thought I'd use one of these spells to protect myself while I sleep. Could it work?"

“Probably. As long as you're not dealing with another sorcerer. I still don't like it. Couldn’t you just let the Red Knight take care of this one?”

“No, I can’t! We know nothing about this creature! What if we need magic to defeat it? Do you remember the griffin?” Merlin protested.

“At least _he_ is a wandering knight. _You_ are the prince’s manservant, you can’t disappear for days without anyone noticing. I still have hope I never have to make up excuses for you.”

“I have to go, Gaius. I’ll tell Arthur my mother is sick and I have to visit her. If I go ask him right now, I may have a chance.”

“It could work. But what if Arthur doesn’t let you go?”

“I’ll think of something. Maybe he’ll be nice just this once?” Merlin said, a wide smile on his face. He didn’t have much hope in this plan. But Arthur had met Hunith now; she wasn’t just ‘Merlin’s unknown mother’ to him anymore. Maybe he’d be nice. Maybe.

He left his mentor’s chambers and took the direction of the prince’s rooms. Arthur was there, sitting at his desk, aimlessly rifling through some of the documents scattered on the wood. As soon as he heard Merlin noisily entering and closing the door behind him, he put the papers down, trying to hide the expression of relief on his face at the prospect of some distraction, or more probably, some much-needed help. Of course, Merlin knew him too well to be fooled.

“Sorry, Arthur, but I’m afraid I can’t help you with your papers tonight,” he said.

“Why not?” Arthur asked. “Isn’t it part of your duties to help me anyway?”

“Not with paperwork, no. You always say I’m an idiot: it’s not appropriate for me to deal with matters of the state,” Merlin deadpanned.

“Propriety certainly hasn’t stopped you before,” Arthur quipped. “You gave your opinion about confidential documents many times before, whether I asked or not. And I can’t remember asking even once.”

“You’re right, but I really can’t. My mother is sick. I wanted to ask if I could have a few days off to help her?”

Arthur threw him a sly look. “I don’t know. I’m going to spend a lot of time on these documents. I’ll surely need you to do a lot of chores for me to make up for the waste of time.”

Merlin didn’t reply. He simply pouted, and tried to think of plan B.

“On the other hand,” Arthur continued, “if I somehow managed to sort all these papers before tonight…”

“Oh, thank you, Arthur!” Merlin grinned. He went to the desk and sat down. “Alright. How far are you? What did you do before I arrived?”

“Not too far,” Arthur answered evasively.

“You read some of them but you can’t remember which ones or what to do with them,” Merlin translated.

“I read some of them and I can’t remember which ones or what to do with them,” Arthur admitted sheepishly. “Merlin, you’ve been dealing with this kind of documents for months while looking above my shoulder. I can’t think of a better person to help me.”

“Morgana? Your father?”

“The king gave me these documents himself, I can hardly imagine him helping me go through them,” Arthur explained. “And I really can’t ask Morgana for help,” he lowered his voice, “she’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Would it be possible that the king just dropped whatever he didn’t want to bother with on your desk?” Merlin asked innocently.

“Of course he did, Merlin, why do you think I can’t make anything of all this?” Arthur answered.

“Alright. Then if we just put them together in a large pile and light the fireplace…” Merlin suggested.

“Surely not!” Arthur protested, before adding: “But don’t tempt me.”

Merlin grinned and started organising the documents in little piles. After some time, most of the documents were sorted.

“Ugh, this is an insult letter from Lord Harald of Applehall. He complains that he has to pay taxes this year, when last year he was exempted.”

“An insult letter? Is it bad?” Arthur asked.

“For me, no. I’ve heard and seen worse. For nobles, probably,” Merlin replied. “Poor grammar, sloppy writing, scratches and ink blobs, and he messed honorifics.”

Arthur snatched the offending missive. “I see. Even you can do better, and you’re a commoner.”

“Is that a compliment, Arthur?”

“Certainly not. Put it it the fifth pile.” He stretched himself, then explained: “Last year, Lord Harald was exempted from taxes because most of his crops were destroyed by a blight. The year before, he had asked to be exempted because his fort had suffered a fire and he needed to repair it. In the end, the fire wasn’t that terrible: he only had to change a door. The year before that, he had something else. And so on. Fifth pile it is.”

The fifth pile contained the letters Arthur didn’t need to answer with great care and nice wording. He kept these as a distraction.

The evening stretched out with Merlin sorting letters and papers, and Arthur replying to the urgent ones while planning a report to the king. Once in a while, he asked for Merlin to provide a synonym of a word if he knew one. The rest of the time, they worked quietly, neither of them speaking.

Merlin didn’t feel like talking as he usually would. He was used to lying to Arthur now, but today’s lie felt different. Perhaps because his lies usually served to save the prince’s life and caused no discomfort. Or perhaps because he was technically working with Red against Arthur. Or because he’d manipulated Arthur instead of simply lying to him, in order to obtain the needed days off. And he involved his mother, that he knew Arthur remembered well. He didn’t know, and he hoped Arthur wouldn’t notice his mood.

Soon Merlin’s work was done, and it was almost time for Arthur to join Morgana for dinner.

“Alright, Merlin, you can have your evening off. Take a few days to help your mother. Give her my regards when you see her.”

“Thank you, Arthur. Good evening.”

Merlin couldn’t believe his half-baked plan of trading help with Arthur’s paperwork for a few days off had worked. He hurried up to prepare everything and leave the castle immediately. Camelot’s northernmost lands were still threatened.

* * *

Arthur watched Merlin leave the room. The request for time off was not unusual, especially when Hunith was concerned: Merlin had almost left Arthur’s service to go back with her when the bandits were attacking his village. Arthur didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish, then or now: there was no way whatever Merlin could do would help a sick woman, or would’ve helped against Kanen.

Thinking of the battle brought the memory of Merlin’s childhood friend to Arthur’s mind. William, was it? Another sorcerer who had helped Arthur, without hesitation and at the cost of his own life.

Sighing, Arthur left his chair and his chambers to go to the dining room. He knew his father wouldn’t join them for dinner, but Morgana would be there and she’d definitely find a way to tell him to go after the creature in the North.

The young lady arrived shortly after him. Curiously, she too had dismissed her servant.

“Isn’t Guinevere with you?” Arthur asked.

“Good evening, Arthur,” she greeted, articulating every syllable to better highlight his own lack of manners. “Gwen? No, I gave her the night off,” she added with a smirk.

Morgana’s expression told Arthur she knew something he didn’t about Guinevere. Maybe the young maid was… seeing someone? Arthur knew he shouldn’t care, or at least be happy for her, but something about the idea didn’t settle right with him. He mentally shook himself and tried to think of something else. Who could Guinevere’s mysterious suitor be? With a pinch in the heart, Arthur remembered Guinevere seemed very close to Merlin. There was the time Merlin had stood in front of the whole council and declared he was a sorcerer to save the maid from execution. Then, when Merlin had been poisoned, she had stayed with him the whole time, and the two weeks after his ordeal, she could hardly look at him without blushing.

To hide his discomfort, Arthur asked “Really? Why? You’ve given her a lot of free time in the evenings, recently.”

“I will not force her to serve in the dining room,” Morgana replied in a much colder tone.

It was indeed easy to understand: the young maid had recently lost her father after Arthur arrested him and the king had him killed by the guards. Now she had no one left in Camelot. She wouldn’t want to be around them while they gathered as a family.

“Then who’s going to do the service?” Arthur asked.

“Arthur, if you really can’t pick up a spoon, how do you expect to pick up a sword?”

He didn’t reply, choosing to stick out his tongue instead.

“Charming as ever,” she deadpanned. “Now tell me, what’s on your mind?”

“I need to sort documents for the king, but while I spend my time in my chambers writing letters to deny tax exemptions, the northern crops are destroyed, and Merlin just asked for some time off to take care of his ailing mother.”

“How many of these letters are urgent?” she asked after thinking for a few seconds.

“Five letters should be sent tomorrow, two or three should’ve been sent yesterday. The rest can wait. But I also have to finish a report.”

“Perfect. Take your plate,” she ordered while standing and grabbing hers.

“You mean to say… you’re going to help me?”

“I want these villagers rescued as much as you do, Arthur. Of course I’ll help you.

“You’re doing this as a rebellion against the king.”

“You’re getting smarter everyday, Arthur,” she said sweetly before leaving the room.

Arthur rolled his eyes and followed her to his chambers. They set their food on the table in silence and sat in front of the piles.

“What did you say about Merlin?” Morgana asked.

“His mother had to be sick just when I need to leave for a few days. I gave him a few days off. At least he won’t try to follow me,” Arthur replied.

“It could even be your excuse to leave the castle,” Morgana said pensively.

“To go with him to Ealdor?”

“Of course not. If we reply to enough letters tonight, you could tell Sir Leon you’re going on a hunt with Merlin for a few days, and then leave the castle. No one is going to look for you.”

“What if Merlin comes back before me?”

“I doubt anyone would notice him as soon as he comes back. I’ll have time to tell him you went out on a hunt with him, and that he can enjoy his time off while it lasts. As long as he stays discreet.”

“And Gaius?”

“I don’t think Uther will ask him anything about Merlin.”

“Right. As usual, you thought of everything. Could you distract the king if necessary?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I think we’re done with these letters. You can go, Arthur. Say hi to Emrys for me!”

“And how would the Red Knight personally know the king’s ward?”

“He doesn’t know you’re the prince?”

“I don’t know his real name either. It’s safer this way. Speaking of safety: Morgana, I appreciate you helping me, but no one else can know about it. Especially Merlin. You know how he is with magic.”

“I wasn’t about to tell your secrets to everyone I talk to, Arthur. But I think you could tell Merlin. You should know… He’s the one who brought the druid boy to my chambers first.”

“Oh did he? Could you do me a favour and remind me to kill him when he comes back?”

“Certainly not. Think about it, Arthur. It would help if he knew. Go on, now. You’ll make Emrys wait.”

“We don’t coordinate our… ugh, whatever. Good night, Morgana,” he sighed, heading to the cupboard in which he kept his armour.

“Good luck, Arthur,” she greeted while departing. “You’ll need it, if the place you hide your secret armour is any indication of your ability to be subtle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Morgana also ships EmRed (but her OTP is still Arwen)
> 
> I was sure Emrys and Red would find each other once again in this chapter but it was longer than expected. They'll see each other soon.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you, Arthur. Good evening.”  
> Merlin couldn’t believe his half-baked plan to get a few days off had worked. He hurried up to prepare everything and leave the castle immediately.

The first day and the first night, everything had gone unusually well. Merlin had made a small camp in the wild, not too close to the road but not too far either, he’d found some wild parsnip to eat. Gaius had taught him to be careful not to confuse them with poison hemlock, and he had learnt this lesson well. He didn’t have enough knowledge of healing magic to deal with poisoning at the moment.

The peaceful, quiet night and the solitude gave him time to think. About his life in Camelot, about Arthur, about his magic, about the Red Knight, about his ‘missions’ as Emrys, and about his destiny. But mostly about Red. The wandering knight was still in contact with Arthur, which was baffling. Why on Earth would he want to speak to a man tasked with catching and killing him? It made no sense. He couldn’t have come to meet Anhora on Arthur’s orders, could he? It seemed ridiculous. Even if the Red Knight had been a real Knight of Camelot sent by Arthur, it would’ve been utterly stupid to go meet Anhora on an official mission in his quite noticeable Red Knight armour and unmarked cloak. No, the Red Knight couldn’t be a regular knight. The only explanation was that he had managed to persuade Arthur not to arrest him.

During his second day of travel, Merlin had tried to imagine all sorts of reasons not to arrest Red. Why would Arthur go against Uther in such a way? The first example that came to mind was Mordred, the druid boy he had helped save. But only after Morgana asked him to, and only because he didn’t think a child could be dangerous. Red, on the other hand, was a traitor to the kingdom for harbouring a sorcerer. What did he have to offer?

Merlin couldn’t find a plausible answer to this question, and now the sun was setting in the west, giving a golden hue to the patches of sky between the tree branches of the forest roof, and indicating it was time to set a camp for the night. Merlin just hoped this second night on the road would go as well as the first. Hopefully, bandits and travellers would keep avoiding him, or rather, not stumbling on him. His appearance, with the shadows on his face, the black cloak on his back and the Sidhe staff in his hand, was anything but inconspicuous, and he didn’t want to deal with potential witnesses. Still, being recognisable as Emrys was better than being recognised as Merlin by some patrol of knights who might possibly tell Arthur he wasn’t on the road to Ealdor as he was supposed to be. It would be equally awful if someone, anyone, noticed that the prince’s manservant travelled to the north just before the crop-destroying monster was killed. But he had yet to meet anyone, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Just when he formulated this small wish in his head, Merlin heard a branch snap. Immediately, he caught his crossbow and loaded it, struggling not to sigh heavily against fate’s dubious sense of humour. He stood in silence and carefully scanned the line of trees behind him to determine what had caused the sound. He wasn’t afraid. If there were bandits in these woods, he could defeat them in an instant with a flash of his eyes, but he’d be powerless if they attacked him from afar. He hadn’t set his wards up yet. It was too early; a traveller could still come by and notice them.

Another twig creaked. Soon enough, he saw a known figure walk between the trees and scowled under his shadows.

“Emrys,” the Red Knight greeted.

“Red,” Merlin answered coldly.

The wandering knight came to Merlin’s campfire, dropped the large bag he was carrying, and sat there like it was nothing. He sprawled his legs on the ground and warmed his hands in the heat of the fire.

Merlin, still standing, looked at him like he was mad.

After a while, Red seemed to notice something was wrong. “What?” he asked.

“… You.” That was all Merlin could manage.

“What is it?” Red insisted.

“Are you just going to come here and sit down with nothing more than an ‘Emrys’?”

“… What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Last time we met, you made it clear you still don’t trust me and think I’m plotting against Camelot, and now you come out of nowhere like you were following me somehow, you sit at my campfire without invitation –”

“Are you seriously arguing over me sitting at your campfire?”

“No! I mean, yes! But that’s not –”

“Good! I’m staying with you for the night, then. There are no bandits in these woods, but you never know. Someone could come bother you,” Red answered.

“Yeah, someone could,” Merlin replied tersely.

“Alright, what’s the matter with you?”

“You tell me. How did you solve the merchant’s little problem?”

“Well, I…” Red tried, but Merlin didn’t let him finish.

“You went straight to prince Arthur! You have to be quite… daft to do such a thing! Do you think he’ll let you go if he catches you? Wait, did you go with your red cape and everything? Do you want to end up in Camelot’s dungeons?”

“I had to do something!”

“Something, yes! But not have a chat with the prince! What were you thinking? Oh, right, I know: Nothing! Don’t you realise we’re both criminals now? You’re at risk as much as I am. You need to be more careful.”

“Was that your way of saying you care about me?” Red asked sarcastically.

“I – no. It was my way of telling you I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I never… I never wanted to involve anyone else, and now you can’t even get any glory for your deeds. I’m sorry, Red,” Merlin answered.

“I made my choice, Emrys. I helped save these people. If this means I’m a criminal, then so be it. I will keep fighting for the people of Camelot, because I can and they cannot. It is the right thing to do. Besides,” he added with a huff, “I don’t think I could stop you from using magic, right?”

“You really couldn’t,” Merlin confirmed.

They kept silent for a while, both of them lost in thought.

“Would you?” Merlin asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Stop me from using magic. If you could,” Merlin explained.

“I’m not sure,” Red replied after a few seconds. “I know magic corrupts people, and I don’t like the idea of you using it, especially since you almost seem like a decent person. Almost.”

“Oi!” Merlin yelled.

“… But then I would have to save you from the monsters, and I have better things to do.”

“Says the one who needed me to rescue him after jumping in the rapids,” Merlin replied.

“Will you keep bringing that up?” Red groaned. “It was a quick –”

“And reckless, and stupid, and foolish, and –” Merlin cut.

“– _decision_!” Red finished loudly.

“Right, like I don’t have enough of these to deal with in my daily life!” Merlin said.

* * *

In front of the campfire, Arthur was sitting quietly, listening to his… – ally? Partner? Not-enemy-sorcerer? – to Emrys, who was ranting against his boss after a friendly conversation around the fire.

“… and that giant _idiot_ is always running into danger, so I have to run after him to save his hide, all the while hiding my powers, because of course magic is forbidden on pain of death in that wretched kingdom, and if I ever get caught, good bye Emrys!” he ranted. “And when everything’s over, he just… treats me like a slave! I have to balance who knows how many tasks and chores, study magic, work for _him_ , study, uh, those other things too, run errands for Ga… so many people, and now that the king of Camelot keeps his son closer to him than a dragon keeps his gold, I have to get rid of all those beasts before they reduce the kingdom to smithereens!”

It was really surprising that the sorcerer was opening up about his other life, away from the monsters and the whole ‘saving Camelot on a weekly basis’. Although, Emrys’ boss seemed to find trouble just as easily as Arthur did himself. Even though Arthur didn’t need a sorcerer to save him as discreetly as possible. Usually. The guiding light in the caves of Balor didn’t count, he decided. Because Arthur had been tricked by the sorceress, and many other good, valid reasons.

However, Emrys was still very careful not to let names slip or give too many details. The way he described his boss could fit no less than ten members of the court, including the king himself. Uther had attracted trouble countless times before with his uncompromising style and his martial approach of diplomacy. But of course Emrys couldn’t be so close to Uther, or any of Arthur’s potential candidates. He was too clever to live in the citadel. Which left all the nobles of lesser station and importance that Arthur rarely met. Any one of those could be a bratty trouble magnet who didn’t mind treating his subordinates a bit too roughly. Arthur rarely appreciated nobles who gave commoners a hard time, so he hoped he’d never meet the man.

Meanwhile, Emrys was done with his rant. “I must admit that he has some redeeming qualities though.”

“Like what?”

“He gave me some time off to deal with the monster, for example,” Emrys replied.

“He knows about you?!” Arthur asked. Was another noble of Camelot involved in their little traitors’ circle?

“No. I lied about the reason I needed time off. I wouldn’t want to involve him in this mess, and he couldn’t go anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Family trouble,” Emrys replied. “And I wouldn’t be able to use my magic openly. Just like you, he ‘doesn’t condone the use of magic’ and I can’t exactly let him know I have it, right? Even though we keep facing those magical beasts and I keep using my magic for him.”

Arthur decided it was the perfect opening to change topics. He’d gladly keep making fun of Emrys’ boss, who seemed like a total git, but he had had more than enough with one rant.

“Do you know why they keep coming? I’ve never heard of so many magical creatures around when I was young.”

“The prince was hunting some of them before. Now Uther doesn’t want him to, he prefers to let the people die as long as his son stays safe in the castle. No one ever told him he’d soon be king of a pile of ashes if no one helped his people.”

Well, Morgana did, Arthur did, but his father didn’t listen. But as a knight, Arthur couldn’t let Emrys insult the king he’d sworn to protect.

“Stop it, Emrys. He’s the king.”

“Yeah, the king who wants both of us dead. Anyway, I don’t know why we’re facing so many of them. Was there trouble with magic in other kingdoms?”

“Mercia. Camelot recently signed a treaty with them to have them enforce their ban on magic. Their king had become lax with it,” Arthur explained.

“The creatures could be escaping Mercia, then. Or maybe there are so many creatures because the prince can’t go after them and destiny has a flair for irony.”

“Destiny? What do you know about destiny?”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you that,” Emrys said.

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you all of my secrets, now, can I?” Emrys replied. “Anyway, we should try to get some sleep. I can set wards around our camp. It will stop most creatures and bandits from entering.”

“Most?” Arthur asked.

“I can’t do anything if they have magic,” Emrys explained. “Wards are usually cast repeatedly through time. I’m powerful enough to have them work around a camp, but almost any sorcerer could tear through them.”

“Alright. You can do it. I don’t mind,” Arthur said.

Emrys nodded and chanted a long spell. A transparent wall appeared in the air, circling around their camp. The only indications of its presence were the light blue swirling patterns and sparks on its surface. Otherwise, it was as clear as water.

Arthur went to his bedroll, wondering briefly when he had started trusting magic to keep him safe, at night, in the forest, alone with a sorcerer.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Arthur woke up, startled awake by a sound nearby. He listened intently, trying to determine its origin. A barn owl screeched in the night. He sighed, reassured, and remembered the wards. They wouldn’t be attacked by bandits in their sleep. He knew Emrys had set up his protections, but he was too used to unsafe travels in bandit-infested lands.

Turning in his bedroll, he glanced around their camp. The flames of the campfire had reduced to small embers glowing red in a circle of stones. Their faint light barely allowed him to see the outline of Emrys’ figure lying on the ground, fast asleep.

A stray thought popped into his head. Despite everything, Emrys hadn’t mentioned anything about Arthur, well, Red, spying on him for Arthur (the prince). If he were Emrys, Arthur would’ve suspected himself of duplicity after deducing he’d ‘seen’ the prince. Especially with Red’s history of reporting Emrys’ magic. He wouldn’t have blamed Emrys for suspecting Red of offering information on Emrys in exchange for a pardon.

Now Arthur wanted to know more about the man who had saved his life so many times and helped the kingdom against so many threats already. To justify his curiosity, he told himself he’d be able to protect the man better if he could recognise his face.

Silently, he went to the reclining shape of the sorcerer. He slowly placed his hand above the hood masking the man’s face. He could already see that the obviously magical shadows usually masking his head were gone. The moonlight let him distinguish a smooth chin. Did Emrys shave with magic? He almost shook his head. That was a stupid question to ask and a stupid thought to have, especially considering what he was about to do.

He grabbed the fabric and started to lift it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, what will happen? 
> 
> (I gave all the hints already)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silently, Arthur went to the reclining shape of the sorcerer. He slowly placed his hand above the hood masking the man’s face.
> 
> He grabbed the fabric and started to lift it.

The next second, all hell broke loose.

Arthur hadn’t even lifted the hood above Emrys’ mouth when a screeching sound pierced his ears. The magic walls (the wards, Emrys had called them) instantly turned ink black, blocking all sources of light and leaving him in the dark. He felt Emrys yank the fabric from his fingers and push him hard. He stumbled and fell to the ground, wincing when his back hit a hard stone.

He couldn’t see a thing. The unnatural darkness around him felt heavy, and he belatedly realised he’d been foolish. Of course Emrys wouldn’t give him the opportunity to see his face. He realised he had no way of protecting himself against the sorcerer if he decided to attack. He started patting the ground in search for something, anything, to defend himself as best as he could, when he heard Emrys stand in front of him.

In the dark, he saw two identical flashes of gold – eyes, he realised – staring at him accusingly.

“I’m…” he managed to say.

The sorcerer started chanting. Emrys’ voice was cold as ice and deeper than usual. Arthur lifted an arm in front of him and braced himself for what would come…

The next second, the wards had become transparent again. Moonlight flooded their little camp, and in front of him stood Emrys, his usual shadows hiding his face. However, now the golden glint of his eyes was plainly visible through the darkness, full of barely contained anger. With his black cape, he looked like a ghost, or a shadowy demon.

He stared at Arthur.

“Have you seen my face?” he asked in a calm voice.

“No,” Arthur replied.

Emrys sighed. “You really are an idiot,” he said as if stating a fact.

“And _you_ didn’t trust me,” Arthur protested.

“I was right not to, wasn’t I?” Emrys deadpanned.

“What are you going to do?” Arthur asked.

“What do you think? I should leave right now and make sure we never meet again!” Emrys yelled. “I thought I could maybe trust you not to betray me, but no, you had to come get a look under my hood! You don’t know what it is, do you? To have to hide in the shadows, always, because if anyone sees your face, you’re as good as dead if they feel like it! You, you’re just some nobleman's son who wants to play hero for fun! If anything happens, you can pretend you were enchanted or something, and you’re free to go! But this, this is no game! This is my life!”

Arthur felt quite sheepish. He hadn’t expected Emrys to be so furious. Well, to be fully honest, he hadn’t expected Emrys to wake up.

“I didn’t think this through,” he admitted. “I could show you my face if you want me to.”

“No way. You’d use it as an excuse to see mine, and that’s not happening any time soon.”

Arthur sighed silently in relief. He didn’t really want to show his face, and he didn’t know how Emrys would take it. After all, he was the prince of Camelot, the man supposed to catch him _and_ the son of Uther Pendragon, and Emrys had enough reasons to hate him already.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Emrys said. “Leave the circle. I want you out of the wards. I won’t be able to sleep if you’re around. At least if you leave, you won’t be able to enter again.”

_And look at my face again_ , was the implied end of the sentence.

Arthur stood in silence, gathered his bedroll, and walked out of the circle under Emrys’ constant stare. The golden, accusatory eyes seemed to pierce his soul, and held no promise of forgiveness for the foreseeable future.

As he tossed and turned in the dark, trying and failing to go back to sleep, Arthur couldn’t help but think he had royally screwed up.

* * *

Merlin ‘woke up’ at dawn after a short, fitful sleep. The events of last evening had kept him awake many hours after midnight. He’d kept cursing himself for his carelessness long after the Red Knight had gone to sleep. Had Gaius not reminded him of the possibility that the Knight would look under his hood, he’d have neglected the alarm spell and the Knight would now know his face. Worse, Merlin wouldn’t have had any idea that the Knight knew… until Camelot’s soldiers came knocking at Gaius’ door to drag him to the pyre. Arthur might not dislike him as much as he pretended to, but if the Red Knight told him Merlin was a sorcerer and had been lying to him so many times, it would shatter whatever friendship they had built over the past year.

Thinking of Gaius… Merlin wondered, while extracting himself from his bedroll, if he should tell his mentor about the Red Knight’s most recent blunder. On one side, the old physician would have a heart attack, or two, and probably threaten to lock him up in his room forever, but on the other side, his foresight had prevented a major catastrophe.

Sighing, Merlin summoned the shadows on his face and got up. He swiftly packed his belongings and dissolved the wards around his camp. At least the Red Knight was still sleeping. A small blessing: it would prevent a rather awkward conversation. He grabbed the last piece of cheese from the few provisions he’d taken with him. He’d have to eat while walking.

He left the camp, careful not to wake up the Red Knight, and started walking.

After two days of travel and not a soul in sight, he had been looking forward to chatting and bantering with Red, whom he’d started seeing as a potential ‘friend’ despite his faults. But the very recent betrayal had hurt enough that he didn’t want anything to do with him for now. Still, the peace and quiet had a bitter taste after his expectations of a nice end of the trip. He walked a bit more slowly than usual as a result, feeling unmotivated and tired.

As he walked, he tried to appreciate the beauty of the landscapes in front of his eyes. The large crops, the grassy plains and the occasional moor were breathtaking when one was in the right mindset. And he usually was, but not today.

He should have tried to walk faster though.

A few hours after leaving the camp, he saw a figure walking fast on the road, on the other side of hilly plains. The figure was moving in the same direction as him, toward the north, and was steadily gaining ground. Merlin estimated that he’d meet whoever this was (he couldn’t see the face or even the clothes at this distance) in less than an hour if he didn’t walk faster. There was a small forest ahead of him on the road, maybe he could hide in there. Whoever this was, he wasn’t thrilled to let them see him. He picked up his pace.

Soon he was facing the first trees. It seemed he had underestimated his ability to reach the forest in time. The thin birches wouldn’t be enough to properly hide if someone was looking for him, but the occasional sturdy oak could mask him from anyone passing by, if they weren’t paying attention. He started walking between the trees instead of on the path leading through the forest, and tried to reach a denser area of the woods.

But he had also underestimated the determination of the stranger. The person was walking so fast he soon heard them on the road. Along with the clanking sounds of his armour. Because this was the Red Knight.

Merlin promptly retreated deeper into the forest, away from the path, as silent as a shadow.

“Emrys!” he heard the Knight call. “Come on! I know you’re here!”

But he wasn’t about to answer.

He didn’t expect the Red Knight to track him down, though.

Which meant he was quickly found. Of course a knight would be able to track people.

“Emrys!” the Knight called a bit breathlessly. “There you are. Hiding from me?”

“You think?” Merlin deadpanned. “Perhaps it escaped your notice, but I really want nothing from you, right now.”

“Right. I know I did something I shouldn’t have done, and you’re angry.”

“Yes, you did, and yes, I am. Congratulations,” Merlin replied tersely before finding his way to the path. There was no reason to avoid the easier route now that the Red Knight had, unfortunately, found him.

“Come on, I apologised, what else do you want?”

“Some peace and quiet. Tough luck, you’re here,” Merlin snapped.

He started walking on the road briskly, the Red Knight trailing behind him, still catching his breath. Merlin didn’t slow down to wait for him.

“Wait,” the Red Knight called. “Not so quick, some of us are in armour!”

“I don’t care. It’s your armour. Deal with it.”

“I apologised, Emrys! Are you still going to be mad at me?”

Merlin turned on his heels and jabbed a finger at the Red Knight. “Okay, first of all, you stated two facts. That’s no apology. That’s a misdirection. You never said you were sorry, and I don’t even think you are. And second, how do you expect me to tell you anything about me if you break my trust the second you get an opportunity?!”

The Red Knight stopped in his tracks, looking sheepish. “I’m… I’m actually sorry, Emrys. I didn’t think this through.”

Merlin didn’t answer and started walking again.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” the Red Knight called. “Come on, Emrys, say something! Come on!”

Merlin ignored him for the next hour. When he stopped for a quick lunch, Red offered him food from his large bag. He threw him a sharp, golden look through the shadow and asked tersely: “Is it poisoned?”

“You know spells to detect poison, don’t you? I think you used them on that sorceress’ tea…”

That was true, but it was very much not what Merlin had in mind. He didn’t answer anyway. He simply let the shadows cover his irises again before they lost their golden hue and turned his head.

After a poor and short-lived attempt at discussing the weather, the Red Knight stopped trying to initiate a conversation altogether. They ate their lunches in silence, each eating his own food. As soon as he finished his meal, Merlin got up and started walking again, still not paying attention to the Red Knight.

* * *

They walked and walked and walked again, in silence. Arthur berated himself for his stupidity. It was his own decision that had cost him Emrys’ trust, and now the sorcerer seemed to think of him as a potential enemy.

And Arthur, having inherited his father’s taste for constant contradiction, wanted nothing more than to befriend the sorcerer. It was one of the reasons behind his rash, impulsive decision. To know the man a bit better.

Oh, well. He would have to wait until Emrys decided to trust him again.

Which could be never.

Arthur sighed, then called the sorcerer striding stiffly two steps ahead. “Say, Emrys, how far are we from the destroyed crops?”

“Not far.”

“Now you answer! Progress,” Arthur joked.

He shouldn’t have. Emrys kept silent afterwards.

After walking for one hour in silence, they reached a wide agricultural plain where crops stretched as far as the eye could see. The northern fields were one of the major sources of food in the kingdom, and the view in front of them was proof that this claim wasn’t unfounded.

Sadly though, part of these fields had been heavily damaged, as if something had trampled on them repeatedly. Something that might still be there. Arthur drew his sword and surveyed his surroundings for hints of the presence of a monster.

He didn’t have to look far. In the east, a cloud of dust was rising above the tall wheat. A cloud, he noticed, that was steadily approaching.

“Emrys,” he called in a low voice.

“I see,” the sorcerer replied in a cold tone, while loading his crossbow.

As the creature came closer, Arthur managed to distinguish its features. The creature had the upper body and wings of a large magpie, with an additional eye on each side of its head. Its lower features were muscular scaly legs, similar to those of large lizards, but whose joints and angles were typical of birds. Its paws bore impressive talons, matched by the large claws protruding from the joints in its wings. Its belly was covered in large scale-like mottled grey plates up to its breast. It screeched loudly as it approached the two men, signalling its intention to fight them.

While he was scanning the creature for weak points, Arthur heard Emrys yell “ _Bregdan anweald arewe!_ ” and saw a blue light cross the air. He instantly knew Emrys had used his magic to power a crossbow bolt the same way he had powered the one that killed the chimera.

The bolt grazed a plate from the beast’s upper breast with enough strength to chip the scale, but then fell to the ground. Alright. Emrys was a terrible marksman, nothing to panic over.

The sorcerer shouted a single word Arthur didn’t catch. The blue fire still burning brightly on the fallen bolt exploded, sending tendrils of blue flames to the monster. As soon as they touched the creature, the flames sizzled and flickered, leaving nothing behind.

He looked at Emrys, and the faceless shadow turned toward him. No need for words to explain what had just happened.

The creature was insensitive to magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like they still have to work together. 
> 
> So I received many comments after posting the last chapter. I didn't trust myself to reply without revealing major spoilers on what would happen next (which I started writing immediately after posting Chp. 12), so I didn't reply at all.  
> But I read everything, and I wanted to thank you all for your nice comments! 
> 
> I'm not sorry for the evil cliffhanger though.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sorcerer shouted a single word Arthur didn’t catch. Tendrils of blue flames floated to the monster. As soon as they touched the creature, the flames sizzled and flickered, leaving nothing behind.
> 
> No need for words to explain what had just happened.
> 
> The creature was insensitive to magic.

“I can’t kill it,” Emrys said in a hollow voice.

“Your crossbow?” Arthur asked impatiently.

“The bolts alone won’t pierce the scales, they’re too thick.”

From the corner of his eye, Arthur saw the… whatever it was, crouch and face Emrys. He bolted and pushed the sorcerer out of the range of the creature’s claws while it was leaping towards him. The sorcerer fell on his backside, and Arthur felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. He decided not to pay attention to it yet.

“Are you alright?” Emrys asked.

“I’m fine,” Arthur pretended, gritting his teeth.

He swung his sword in the air in an attempt to intimidate the monster. Unfortunately, it didn’t work as intended: the monster screeched and lifted its head, clearly not interested in backing down.

“Any idea?” Arthur asked.

“Try not to get killed,” Emrys suggested.

“Very funny.”

Arthur lunged forward, aiming at the damaged breast scale with his sword. The creature, anticipating his intentions, swung a vicious claw in his direction. Arthur ducked at the last second, but failed to hit the monster by doing so.

Emrys took a deep breath and bellowed strange, foreign words in the language of magic. The wind rose, agitating and ruffling the wheat.

“What are you doing?! It won’t work!” Arthur protested.

Emrys didn’t reply and kept chanting. The wind carried small twigs and dried leaves to the sorcerer and left them floating lazily around him in a circle. The birdlike animal looked mesmerised by the scene: it wasn’t moving at all, its piercing, mad gaze looking at the floating leaves. When Emrys was satisfied with the amount of kindling he had amassed, he pointed at the creature and the twigs and leaves silently moved towards it.

“ _Forbaer…_ ”

But the monstrous bird didn’t let the sorcerer finish. It jumped in the middle of the floating plant debris, completely disrupting the spell and sending the leaves and twigs to the ground. One of them flickered as Emrys’ magic tried to set it on fire, but nothing else happened.

“Are you sure you’re a sorcerer, Emrys?” Arthur asked.

“Shut up, Red.”

Arthur was about to laugh, but he stopped himself as the creature was again turning his attention to him. And it was angry.

* * *

The impossible monster – the one that resisted magic – was going to trample the Red Knight. Merlin could see it in his eyes. In a split second, he decided not to try anything against the monster.

It would be more efficient to use magic on Red.

“ _Bregdaþ cniht!_ ”

With a wave of his hand, he sent Red flying away in a pile of hay, from which the knight’s voice emitted a muffled grunt.

“Sorry,” Merlin said sheepishly, before remembering Red had more than deserved a bit of a rough treatment.

“Do that again!” the Red Knight yelled.

“You’d rather have died?” Merlin protested.

“What? No, really, do it again,” Red explained. He painstakingly got on his feet, and turned towards Merlin. “You throw me in the air, in the direction of that… thing. When I’m close enough, I’ll cut its neck.”

The monster didn’t let him finish. It charged the Red Knight, who jumped out of the way in a clumsy leap. The bird turned his attention to Merlin.

“But when…” Merlin started before ducking and rolling to avoid one of the creature’s vicious jabs. “But when you get too close it might stop the magic!”

“The force of the throw will keep me going! Do it!” the Red Knight insisted.

Merlin breathed deeply and lifted a hand, more to show the Knight he was about to use his magic than out of a real need to direct the spell, and flashed his eyes. “ _Bregdaþ cniht!_ ”

As the Red Knight crossed the air, his legs flailed wildly, but his arms were steadily lifting his sword high in the sky. In a quick movement, he decapitated the monster while it was trying to peck him with its sharp beak. Immediately, Merlin felt the stream of magic cut by the creature’s interference. The momentum clearly wasn’t enough to let Red land gracefully, though, because he crashed to the ground on top of the dead body. The carcass twitched a bit, spilling dark red blood around, and soon silence fell on the scene.

“… Red?” Merlin called.

“I’m alive, I think,” he answered. Grunting loudly, he disentangled himself from the birdlike corpse. “You?”

“I’m fine. _I_ wasn’t flung in the air like a puppet.”

“You’re the one who flung me in the air.”

“And you’re the one who asked,” Merlin reminded him.

“True. Now, what exactly is that thing?” the Red Knight asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s not in my bestiaries.”

“What is a bestia… whatever. How did it come here then?”

“Maybe… it was created?” Merlin tried. “My books hold knowledge of the rarest creatures. If this thing was never reported before, then it must have been made.”

“With magic.” Red commented darkly.

“Just so you know, I don’t condone the use of magic for such creations,” Merlin answered hotly. “It must have suffered greatly.”

The Red Knight stayed silent for a while, then said “I think I know who did it. There was this sorceress… Brown hair, beautiful eyes, two strands of hair framing her face. She looked young, but I think the king knew her. He never told anyone her name, but something happened between them, I’m almost certain of it.”

How could the Red Knight know about Nimueh? In any case, she would’ve been an ideal suspect: she had created monsters before, she had the power to tamper with life, and she knew Merlin would be powerless against a magic-resisting monster. But of course, she was dead.

Or… was she? Could she have found a way to trick death itself?

Impossible, Merlin thought. Her life had been the price to keep Gaius’. She had to be dead.

In any case, Merlin couldn’t tell the Red Knight that Nimueh was dead. He would have to explain how he knew it, and why he killed her. And the less Red knew about either him and Arthur, or the prophecy, or really anything, the better.

“I’d like more proof of her involvement,” he replied.

Red suddenly looked sheepish. “Uh, yes, we need proof,” he said quickly.

Merlin realised he actually had a point: Red had once again accused a sorceress with almost no proof and probably little knowledge of Nimueh’s other actions and why she’d be a likely suspect. Granted, from what Merlin knew, she would have been able to do it and would’ve been a very good suspect. But Red couldn’t know that much about Nimueh.

Frowning under his shadows, he replied pensively “That’s why I cannot trust you.”

“Emrys…”

“Sorry, Red. I’m leaving.”

* * *

Merlin’s trip back to Camelot was filled with dark thoughts about the Red Knight, as he didn’t think he’d be ready to forgive his recent betrayal anytime soon. After three days, when the citadel came into view, he decided to stay out of sight for a while to recover and take a little break to process the events. The last thing he needed right now was Arthur yelling at him. Merlin resented that he couldn’t tell his best friend about his problems, and that the prince was enough of a prat not to notice he was upset anyway.

But he wasn’t in the castle for more than an hour when Morgana came knocking at Gaius’ door.

“Merlin? Can I talk to you?”

Repressing a sigh, Merlin left the herbs he was mindlessly crushing for Gaius as a distraction. “Yes, Morgana? What can I do for you?”

“Oh, no, it’s not for me. It’s for Arthur,” she replied.

Merlin couldn’t stop a groan from escaping his lips.

Morgana politely ignored the noise as if she hadn’t heard it (which the shade of a smirk appearing on her lips made obvious she had) and continued: “You know how Uther keeps him locked in the citadel for some reason? When you were gone, he decided to leave the castle for a while.”

Merlin repressed a louder groan. “I bet the king wasn’t happy about it. Arthur alone out there…”

“Yes, this is why I told him he was with you. So if you could avoid Uther until Arthur comes back…”

The weight of Morgana’s words hit Merlin. Arthur _was_ out of the castle, alone, with dozens of vengeful sorcerers happy to take their rage and frustration with the king out on him, and no secret warlock to save his hide from the shadows.

“Where did he go, exactly? Should I join him?” he asked in a tone he hoped was casual enough that Morgana wouldn’t…

But she would, wouldn’t she? That was precisely her thing. Morgana smirked, yelled at the king and noticed everything.

“Hunting,” she quickly replied. “He wanted to go out in the wild, so of course he decided he might as well kill some of it,” she said. After a second, she added: “I don’t know where he is exactly.”

“Alright. Let’s hope he brings back something to satisfy the king.”

“Yes. Good evening, Merlin.”

The king’s ward left the physician’s chambers, a strange look in her eyes. Merlin glanced at Gaius, who had been pretending to read something from his desk all along.

“So, Arthur had to do something really, really stupid?”

Gaius immediately lifted his eyes from his paper, proving he wasn’t reading it at all. “I don’t know, Merlin. Did you notice how she replied when you mentioned finding Arthur?”

“Too fast?”

“Yes, indeed. And _she_ didn’t notice you sounded too concerned about Arthur. Although it might be because he has faced a lot of situations, recently. Even Uther is worried about Arthur.”

“Maybe. But she was hiding something.”

“It seems everyone is hiding something in this castle,” Gaius hummed.

By some miracle, Merlin managed not to look sheepish when he thought about Red. And the cloak. He didn’t want to tell Gaius he’d been right to be wary about the knight. To distract his mind from this new problem, he decided to ask his mentor about the mysterious creature.

“Gaius? The monster that destroyed the crops, I think it was created with magic.”

“How so?” his mentor asked.

“I never saw any mention of such a creature in any bestiary. If it existed in nature, then I should have heard about it, right? Especially if it threatens fields and crops.”

“Some creatures are rare and elusive, Merlin. It doesn’t necessarily mean they are summoned by a sorcerer.”

“Yes, but this one was strange though. It was resistant to magic, and it looked like a hybrid of several natural animals. As if someone had assembled it from parts of different creatures.”

“Could you describe it?”

“Half-magpie from the top. The legs were those of a lizard, but they looked like bird legs. It had thick scales on its breast. And talons.”

“That doesn’t sound familiar. I need to do some research.”

“And what do we do about Arthur?”

“I don’t know, Merlin. Any idea where he is?”

“No, but wherever he is, he’s probably neck deep in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, Merlin. Arthur is capable of protecting himself.”

* * *

Arthur was feeling miserable. The trip back home had been awful, he still resented the spur-of-the-moment decision that had brought no gain and jeopardized the sorcerer’s assistance against future magical threats to Camelot, he dreaded his father’s ire for leaving the castle without permission, and he felt generally awful.

And now that he was back in the citadel, he had to hide his shoulder wound in case someone noticed him. He had noticed the blood trickling from under his armour after the battle and Emrys’ abrupt departure, but he hadn’t been able to bandage it properly while on the road.

At least he managed to hunt some fowl to appease the king and justify his absence.

He crossed the gate, eyeing the guards from the corner of his eye. He wouldn’t have put it past Uther to have him arrested as soon as he entered the citadel. Again. But the guards let him enter without batting an eye. Arthur silently let out a sigh of relief. Staying as discreet as possible, he left the result of his hunt in the kitchens, then went straight to his apartments.

Arthur waited a few minutes in silence, listening to the noise in the corridor. Once certain that nobody would disturb him, he removed the bundle of red cape containing his Red Knight armour from his shoulder, where he kept it to hide the bloodied wound.

The gash was as large and irregular as it had been for the last three days, but not deep. Arthur took some water from a basin on a nearby table and tried to clean the wound properly. During his trip back to Camelot, he had had to make do with whatever was available outside: water from streams to somewhat clean the wound and dirty cloth to bandage it. He had managed to miraculously avoid infection so far, but he was aware how stupid it would be to push his luck.

Could he ask Gaius to do something? Certainly not: the physician might recognise something in the wound and ask for some explanation he couldn’t give.

Merlin, then? As Gaius’ apprentice, he might be able to help Arthur. But no, Merlin would also want answers, and he was terrible at lying. If the king ever asked him how Arthur got hurt, he might blurt everything out and blow his cover. No, Merlin could never know Arthur had been attacked by some monster, or that he was the now-outlaw Red Knight. It was bad enough that Morgana knew.

Wait. Morgana. She could probably help.

As if on cue, the raven-haired woman knocked at his door and entered without waiting for an answer.

“Morgana,” Arthur greeted, trying to hide his surprise and mild annoyance at her cavalier manners.

“Arthur,” she replied in the same casual tone.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

“Not really, but I suspect there is something I can do for you,” she replied with a sweet smile and a nod to his shoulder. “So the golden prince got hurt by the monster. I suppose you don’t want to ask Gaius for help?”

“Of course not. We both know he’d tell the king.”

“I could go visit him and tell Merlin you require his services. It shouldn’t raise any suspicion. Everybody knows that you can barely survive without your manservant’s help.”

“The last person I want to know about my activities is Merlin. Have you seen him try to lie? He’s terrible at it. The whole court would know everything by tomorrow,” Arthur protested.

“You might be surprised,” she replied pensively.

“What do you mean?”

She seemed to catch herself before blurting something out, then said: “I meant that he is a lot more capable than you give him credit for.”

The allegation was so outlandish that Arthur instantly forgot about Morgana’s behaviour. “ _Merlin?!_ ”

“Don’t pretend now, Arthur, deep down you know he’s more than a goofy buffoon.”

“Yes, of course he is, he…” Arthur replied before stopping dead in his tracks.

“Uhuh? Do go on, please.”

“Surely not. Do you have any suggestion about this?” Arthur said with a gesture to his shoulder.

“I could ask Gwen. She won’t tell a soul. I’ll tell her that you got hurt while hunting, and that you don’t want your father to learn of it.”

“Guinevere?”

Arthur felt that he had to object. For some obscure reason, he really didn’t like the idea of the young maid seeing him in this state, weakened by a wound. The idea made him feel self-conscious, as if he was naked. Maybe because he was supposed to appear strong and invincible in front of the people of Camelot? But before he could think of something, Morgana said: “She used to help Gaius with the wounded before Merlin arrived. I’ll come back with her in a minute.”

And just like that, she left the room, an inexplicable smirk on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s possible that Morgana is the devil in disguise. I’m not saying she is. All I’m saying is that no one has ever seen the two of them in the same room at the same time.
> 
> So, when I said I’d post something “soon” in the comments of the last chapter, I didn’t mean “much, much later”, but that’s what happened anyway, sorry.


	15. Chapter 15

A few minutes later, Morgana came back, with Guinevere right behind her.

“My Lord,” the maid uttered while bowing. When he looked at her, Arthur was certain her cheeks were redder than usual, but he couldn’t understand why. She couldn’t have run to come, since Morgana came with her and looked just fine.

He, however, had a good reason to turn a bit red in the face. He was standing there without a shirt on and with a large wound in his shoulder. He tried to think of something else to stop his own cheeks from changing colour.

The maid started a fire and put a pot of water to boil with a needle and thread. Meanwhile, Morgana had gone to the door to keep an eye on the corridor. It wouldn’t do to have the king barge in unannounced now.

Guinevere silently, delicately stitched his wound and bandaged it. The whole time, Arthur tried to stop himself from shivering under the light touches of her fingers fluttering above his skin. He didn’t know what in the name of sanity was happening to him, but the situation was making him feel incredibly uncomfortable and self-conscious.

Morgana’s periodic backward glances and smirks didn’t help. It was almost like she knew something he didn’t.

When the ordeal was over, Morgana turned and smirked at him.

“Are you feeling better now?” she asked. “I look forward to the day you will find an appropriate way to express your gratitude towards us both,” she added with a pointed glance.

Damn it all, he owed her a favour now.

“Of course,” he replied. “Now I should probably tell Merlin how he was actually on a hunt with me and not visiting his mother. I cannot believe I have to rely on him not making any blunders.”

“I took care of this too,” Morgana said. “But you could ask him to draw you a bath.”

Arthur felt his face getting warmer. Did he really stink that much? Impossible, he had bathed in the river the last time he had cleaned his wound, just before entering the citadel.

“You seem... tense,” she explained, seeing his confused look. Why was she _smirking again_?!

“I can go find him, Sire,” Guinevere offered.

“Thank you, Guinevere. Oh, but one more thing,” Arthur said.

“Yes, Sire?”

“I suppose you know Merlin wasn’t actually with me on the hunt. I do not want him, or anyone, to find out I got hurt while out of the castle. Could you keep this secret for me?”

“Of course, my lord.”

He didn’t want to take any risks. Merlin could be quite fussy when it came to Arthur’s health.

* * *

Waiting for Arthur to return was irritating enough that Merlin quickly needed something to do, which was the only reason he was currently sitting in his room with his magic book on his lap, turning pages in the hopes of finding an efficient and discreet way to contact the Red Knight should he ever need his help. Which would never happen anyway: if Merlin ever needed a knight, Arthur would probably do, and if it was a matter of magic, then Merlin himself was more than capable of dealing with the situation. So indeed his research was only a way to pass the time.

And giving the Red Knight a way to contact him should he need Emrys’ help was completely, definitely out of the question. The nobleman had shown that he had little concern for secrecy. Despite everything, he was still openly in contact with Arthur, as shown by the recent case of Trevor the merchant with a curse, and _he had tried to discover Emrys’ true identity_!

Merlin came out of his train of angry thoughts and realised he’d been reading the same line for ten minutes now. Shaking his head, he focused again on the esoteric text and read a paragraph. Why would anyone ever need a carrot that shone light when stored under a flight of wooden stairs? Sighing heavily, he closed the book and hid it under his bed. He didn’t really need to contact Red anyway. And… deep down, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Or that he could bring himself to somewhat trust the knight again.

Less than five minutes later, he heard Gwen’s voice coming from Gaius’ chambers. He entered the room and greeted his friend.

“Gwen!”

“Merlin,” she smiled. “How is your mother?”

Merlin was taken aback by the question for a split second, before remembering his excuse for leaving the castle. “She’s better. It was quite a cold, but now that she got some rest, she will be fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Did you need something, Gwen?” Gaius asked.

“Oh, yes! Actually, I came to tell Merlin that Arthur is back and that he needs your help.”

“Now that’s a surprise. What does he want?”

“A bath, probably. He might be a bit grouchy.”

“As usual. I had forgotten how good it feels to be his manservant.”

“Merlin!” she chided him. “He’s not that bad for a prince!”

“Really? _Someone_ told me he was a bully on my second day in Camelot!”

Gwen didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her head to hide a smile.

“So, how was the castle without Arthur? No griffin, no mad sorcerer?” Merlin asked.

“Fine! Fine. Everything was fine.” Gwen replied. “I mean… It wasn’t fine because neither you nor Arthur were there, no, wait, I didn’t mean that we missed you so much… Well, we did! What I mean is, it wasn’t because you weren’t there that it was fine. It was just… fine.”

“Are you alright, Gwen?”

“Yes, yes, I’m… fine.”

“… Right. I suppose I should go prepare Arthur’s bath. Are you coming along?”

“To Arthur’s bath?! No, of course not!” Gwen said quickly.

“What? To the royal wing of the castle! Don’t you have to go back with the lady Morgana?”

“Ah, uh, no, she, uh, asked me to mend a dress and I need some materials I have at my house. I should be going now. See you later!” Gwen said in a hurry, before leaving the room even faster.

“Was she blushing?” Merlin wondered.

“I don’t know,” Gaius answered.

“I should be getting to work,” Merlin said.

Getting to work meant he had to go see Arthur and wait for his orders. And bear the prat’s usual unfathomable mood and boorish behaviour. All the while trying not to think of the several times the prince could have died alone in the woods, just because he couldn’t bear to wait for Merlin to come back.

By the time he reached the door, he was already grumbling audibly.

The trip to Arthur’s chambers was uneventful, except for the few people who threw weird and surprised glances at him. Probably because they heard him mutter some things he’d never repeat out loud in front of the king: “Prattish prince… never stops to think for _one_ second… always tries to get killed… whatever went through his head…”

In front of Arthur’s door, Merlin steeled himself. He’d better hide his temper with some of his usual chatter.

* * *

Arthur would've been glad to say that Merlin miraculously knocked at his door this day, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. And since the only other person who could get away with entering his chambers like that was the king, Arthur had jumped out of his skin. Once again.

In truth, he had a good reason. Arthur could avoid facing his servant when he gave him orders. Merlin would simply assume he was being a prat, as usual, and leave him alone. Probably put too much cold water in his bath in retaliation, too. But the king would never let him speak while changing behind a screen or facing the window. And then he would notice the bloodstains on his shirt, making it obvious that he had not merely gone to hunt birds as he had pretended.

He really hoped Morgana would have an idea for the shirt. He couldn’t let Merlin wash and mend it: he’d ask too many questions, or speak about it to the wrong person.

Speaking of the young man, he was now in his chambers, waiting for orders. Or rather, babbling and chattering about anything and everything while not waiting for Arthur to reply with his next chores.

“Merlin, do you think you can shut up long enough to draw me a bath?”

“Yes sire, of course, sire,” Merlin replied in a long-suffering tone that didn’t quite imitate the usual sarcasm with which he gave Arthur his proper titles. Was something off?

“You know, I almost _heard_ you rolling your eyes,” Arthur joked.

“I didn’t,” Merlin replied before leaving the room.

Arthur shrugged and went to change behind his screen. He wasn’t really in the mood for a joke either. As he took off his bloodied shirt, he let his mind wander to the events of the past few days. He remembered finding Emrys, sharing a quiet, nice evening with him. And then trying to look under his hood. Emrys giving him the cold shoulder. The monster. The fight. Emrys saving his life, the two of them killing the beast. And the short moment when he thought everything was going to be back to normal between them, whatever ‘normal’ was when Emrys was involved.

His disappointment when it didn’t.

He sighed.

The sorcerer was almost friendly when discussing the origin of the beast, but he’d made it clear that he hadn’t forgiven Arthur. What would appease him? How could Arthur make him forget what he’d done?

And to think that right now, just a few days later, he didn’t even know, or remember, why he’d done it. That was so… stupid.

He was startled again by Merlin entering his room with his bathtub and hot water. He stifled the enormous sigh that threatened to escape his lips. Merlin had good hearing (when it didn’t involve orders) and Arthur was determined to keep his goofy manservant of a friend out of all matters concerning the Red Knight and especially Emrys.

“Your bath’s ready,” Merlin said.

“Fine. Now go do something else. I’m sure you got plenty of chores to complete after your time off.”

“Won’t you take your bath? You’ll need me.”

“Merlin, despite what you think, I can do some things on my own,” Arthur said. “Go on now.”

When he heard his door almost slammed by the servant, he remembered Merlin had left to visit his mother. Who was sick. And he hadn’t asked anything about her. He hoped she was alright. But if Merlin’s attitude indicated something was wrong, then she may not.

Another thing to worry about, then.

* * *

As Merlin came back to Gaius’ chambers, he could swear steam and smoke were flowing out of his ears. “It really feels good to be back,” he growled.

Gaius laughed. “Some things never change, Merlin.”

“Oh believe me, Gaius, I know,” he replied while striding to his own little room.

The raven-haired boy kneeled and reached for his book of magic below the tiny bed. He needed to do something to appease his nerves, which were obviously frayed from his recent trip. Usually Arthur didn’t irritate him as easily, but today was different, with Red’s recent betrayal.

Mindlessly flipping through the pages proved a terrible way to pass the time and calm down, but it reminded Merlin that he had to talk to Gaius about better methods of travelling. He quickly closed the book and left the room.

“Gaius,” he called after quickly checking no visitor was around, “could you help me learn teleportation?”

“Not so loud, Merlin. I never practised it myself, but I believe we discussed it last time. Teleportation is easier when you can imagine exactly where you want to be, and this is a skill you learn along with scrying.”

“Could you teach me how to scry then?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, I think I can, although you must keep in mind that it is a difficult art. The complete experience of scrying cannot be described in a book such as yours, and a teacher can only help so much.”

“I suppose it will take a lot of time?”

“Indeed. But with your power, we might achieve some results faster than expected.”

Merlin groaned. “When do you think I’ll succeed?”

“In your current state, not before years,” Gaius chuckled.

“What?!”

“Merlin, scrying is an art that requires a certain mental state. You need inner peace and to keep your mind empty of parasitic thoughts. Something tells me you’re not about to reach this state. Unless you’d like to tell me what’s the matter?”

Curse the old man’s perceptiveness. But Merlin hadn’t been exactly _subtle_ about his sour mood. “Arthur was an ass, and I was worried something could’ve happened to him, but I can’t tell him that,” Merlin answered.

“I see,” Gaius hummed. “Now what’s really on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Merlin answered quickly.

Gaius threw a long, unimpressed look at Merlin.

“It’s just… I’m always running around doing all these things for everyone and no one has the decency to have some consideration for it!” Merlin said. “Arthur never stops being an idiotic, pompous arse, and neither does Red! No wonder he hasn’t stopped talking to Art-”

“What?” Gaius asked.

“What?” Merlin replied.

“Merlin, is the Red Knight still in contact with Arthur?”

“I think so. Do you remember the merchant?”

“The clumsy one? Yes. What does he have to do with Red and Arthur?”

“Red was the one who told Arthur how to cure the merchant. He said he had to do it, but why would Arthur not arrest him then?”

“I don’t know, Merlin,” Gaius said pensively. “I think you should be cautious around this knight.”

“Yes, I know,” Merlin said before dropping on a chair. He hadn’t planned on telling Gaius about the connection between Red and Arthur, as he didn’t want the old man to worry even more. Or to forbid him from fighting the monsters threatening Camelot.

“Alright,” Gaius said suddenly. “Now let’s give you your first lesson in scrying.”


	16. Chapter 16

The sky was already darkening as the evening started falling down. Merlin was sitting at his mentor’s working table, having memorised the spell. In front of him was an unlit candle, and Gaius was clearing his throat.

“We discussed elements before, didn’t we? As you now know, many spells can be tied to one or several elements,” his mentor explained. “Like many other spells, teleportation could in theory be tied to any element, using it as a gateway to another place said element can reach this other place unbroken.”

“So I could... cross a lake?” Merlin asked.

“Using water, yes. Find a lake, and you can reach any location downstream from yours.”

“Why downstream?”

“Merlin, one of the things the Old Religion taught was the balance within nature. The ancient High Priests were learned magic users, and they could observe the balance of nature through their magic.”

“And balance became one of the principles of the Old Religion, yes, I know,” Merlin groaned. “I’ve upset the balance of nature before.”

“With a power such as yours, you can briefly overlook balance from time to time, yes. But when teleporting, you are already concentrating your power on yourself, so you need to follow the pathways through which elemental energies circulate in nature.”

“What are these pathways?” Merlin asked.

“Water trickles and runs. Fire burns materials and leaves ashes behind it. Earth energy circulates through ley lines, much like water circulates through rivers.”

“And air?”

“Could you take a guess?”

“Wind?”

“Exactly. Wind, breath, drafts in a castle... Of all the elements, air has the most freedom.”

“So we’re going to use air?”

“To teleport, yes. But first you need to learn scrying. Otherwise you might end up in a random place every time you teleport.”

“How do I scry then?”

“Just like teleportation, scrying can be performed through any element as a support. Like a water bowl, or a crystal. For quick results, I think fire is the best option for you, though,” Gaius explained.

“Why? I can control all elements,” Merlin protested.

“Merlin, your strong suits are fire and air. Your earth and water powers are too weak for this. And air is too volatile and free to use as a scrying support for your first try.”

“I controlled water when I fought the asrai.”

“What did you do?” Gaius asked.

“I moved an entire pool of cave water to the ceiling.”

“Moving things can also be an air spell, Merlin. Isn’t that what you’re doing all the time without even using proper spells? I suspect you instinctively used a weak control on water to keep it together, then moved it using air,” Gaius reflected. “Now, light the candle.”

As Merlin was starting to reach for a stick of wood to transport a flame from the fireplace to the candlewick, Gaius chuckled. “With magic, Merlin.”

The raven-haired boy sat down and lit the candle with a golden flash of his eyes.

“Perfect. Now focus on the candle. Try to empty your mind of anything that clouds your judgement. You need to concentrate on what you want to see. Then, use your spell.”

* * *

Freshly bathed and dressed in fine clothing, without any trace of blood or wound visible, Arthur was preparing himself to visit his father. Who would predictably yell at him for leaving the castle. And his duties. On his own. ( _With Merlin_ , he had to remember this. He was supposed to be with Merlin.)

Alright, he didn’t want to do it, but he had to, so there was no point in hesitating. He left his chambers and headed towards the king’s quarters. At this time of the day, his father was most likely there, studying some case with an advisor. Perhaps something about food resources, given the time of year. It was fine. There should be enough food and grain to feed everyone. The king would be in a good mood.

He knocked at the door. Uther barked a curt “What?” from behind.

It was fine. The king was absolutely not in a good mood.

He entered the room, a sort of study hall with a large wooden table to accommodate for account books and harvest records and all sorts of registers. The king was sitting at the furthest side of the table, with Lord Harald standing right next to him.

Ah, yes. Lord Harald was infamously known for always begging to be exempted from taxes (as he recently tried with Arthur) and never finishing his yearly harvest records on time. Or without countless errors, which surprisingly would always result in lower amounts of food owed to Camelot. Besides, his personality was a combination of arrogant gall in his veiled insults, oily, smarmy cowardice when called out on them, and absolute stubbornness whenever he did not want to admit that yes, he had to have harvested more than what was written on his fraudulent books. One of his secret, most infuriating techniques was to listen to lengthy technical lectures on how obvious it was his records were faked, nod every once in a while, and then say the number of carrots had been right all along. No wonder the king was irritated.

“My Lords,” Arthur greeted. Sadly, Lord Harald’s domain was situated at a strategic point in Camelot’s defences, near the lands of Essetir. He could not be insulted openly, as much as he couldn’t insult the royal family openly.

“Arthur,” Uther dropped in a rather dispassionate tone. He waved at Lord Harald, who seemed to understand he had outstayed his welcome and left the room.

The prince had a hard time evaluating his father’s mood. Perhaps he would be glad for the interruption? “I just came back from my hunting trip.”

“Your unapproved hunting trip,” the king commented. “Did you at least catch anything for the kitchens?”

“Fowl, but no game,” Arthur replied.

“Fine. I trust the trip went well?” That was a real surprise. The king really must’ve wished for a break in dealing with Harald’s tomfoolery.

“Of course, my Lord.”

“I suppose our lands are safer than they were. Good. Is your wound correctly healed?”

The mention of a wound made Arthur briefly panic before he realised the king must have been talking about the mark the Questing Beast left on his chest. After all, it was the reason his father had kept him inside for so long. “Yes, the muscles are entirely repaired and I kept no ill effects. My strength is unaffected and my sword skills remain the same.”

“Perfect. Then you will accept the mission I wanted to assign you.”

Arthur’s heart leapt in his chest. Was he finally allowed to leave the castle again? Did the king’s fear end? Like that? It seemed so, but he didn’t want to let himself hope.

“What do I have to do?”

“An abandoned druid camp was spotted by a patrol. I want you to go inspect it, see if they left any traces, magic items, anything. Do not go with a patrol: I want you to accomplish your task as inconspicuously as possible.”

“When do I have to go?” Arthur asked.

“Tomorrow morning would do. Ask the patrol about details regarding the location of the camp. Send back Lord Harald when you leave.”

Arthur knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he bowed and made an exit with a plain “Yes, my Lord.”

Meeting Lord Harald in the corridor, he nodded towards the door, prompting the insufferable man to enter the room again.

All in all, he felt lucky. He couldn’t help but feel that, had Lord Harald not properly and thoroughly worn out his father’s energy to argue, he would’ve found himself at the receiving end of the king’s... displeasure.

Arthur shook his head and decided not to dwell on this. He had much to do.

* * *

Merlin tried to concentrate on the flame flickering and dancing in front of him, but his mind kept wandering to his current problems. Like the Red Knight, who was equally trustworthy and untrustworthy, who kept sending mixed signals concerning his own trust in Merlin (or Emrys). Arthur, who was cooped up in a castle until he was driven mad with boredom, but still chose to leave the security of the walls the second Merlin was not around to keep an eye on him. Gaius, whose worries started to rub off on his ward.

Eventually, he decided to focus on his breathing. After a few cycles of inhaling and breathing out in rhythm, he felt ready to give the spell a try.

“ _Diegol onhlíd. Ic þurh byrne ellor oferseo._ ”

Nothing happened. The small flame flickered, once, but no images formed in its golden light.

Right. He needed to focus on something he wanted to see. Why not... Arthur?

He tried to imagine the prince’s face, and... Well of course that would remind Merlin of every problem Arthur represented. Their shared destiny which the prince was completely (and blissfully) unaware of. His resulting foolish carelessness. His usual obnoxiousness, which sometimes drove Merlin crazy enough to consider turning him into an actual pig.

Alright. Perhaps keep problematic people for later. Gwen, then?

He pictured the young maid in his head. Gwen was never a problem in Merlin’s life, so everything should be alright. With Gwen in his mind, Merlin projected again his will onto the little flame.

“ _Diegol onhlíd. Ic þurh byrne ellor oferseo!_ ”

This time, he felt the flow of magic leaving his body. The flame flickered wildly for a second, and when it stabilised, Merlin briefly saw an image of Gwen, which disappeared so quickly he began to think he had imagined it.

“ _Diegol onhlíd! Ic þurh byrne ellor oferseo!_ ” he repeated one last time.

The flame didn’t waver this time. A quick succession of images replaced it, as if the small light was a golden-framed window opening on multiple places almost at once. Merlin tried to identify each one. There was Morgana sitting at her desk, looking both pleased with herself and slightly exhausted. A cook throwing mushrooms in a pot. Gwen, finally, doing some laundry. A storm over a faraway sea. Gwen again, with Merlin, at last week’s market. An eagle in the mountains. Gwen doing her laundry again. Merlin staring at a candle. When he saw the last image, Merlin couldn’t help but look behind his shoulder, where the vision was taken from, losing his focus on the candle in the process.

“What did you see?” Gaius asked.

“Images,” Merlin answered. “I think Gwen is doing some laundry; I’ve seen her twice. I saw other moments with her. When we were at the market last week. I also saw other people, even though I was only trying to see her. Then I had a vision of me scrying in this room and I looked where the vision came from.”

“I thought it might happen. Fire is almost as unstable as air. For clear visions, you would have better luck with water or earth. And even then... Mastering scrying requires practise, time and discipline. Beginners often have a wandering mind. Besides, you’ve always been quite the energetic person, so I’m willing to bet you won’t get clear visions too soon.”

“What about teleporting?”

“How many places did you see, and how well did you see them?”

“Several, clear enough to describe them if I wanted.”

“That’s more than enough. As long as you can picture a place you just saw in your mind, you should be able to reach it.”

“So... what’s the spell to teleport?”

“Not yet, Merlin. First you need to familiarise with scrying on air.”

“Alright,” the young warlock said. “I think I’ll stop here for tonight. I need to find George and ask him to assist Arthur at dinner tonight.”

* * *

After dinner, which had been served by the highly efficient George whose innumerable qualities would sadly never compensate his abysmal sense of humour, Arthur had decided to do something nice for once, and ask Merlin about his mother.

Which was why he was currently in front of Gaius’ doors, unsure of what to say. He couldn’t just barge in and ask how was Hunith. The few days he had spent with Merlin’s mother had been tiring, but also surprisingly pleasant, and if he was about to learn of her passing away, or any other bad news, he would sincerely regret it.

And yet, pacing in front of the door was hardly going to bring him any answer. He resolved to do as always and improvise. He opened the door.

Merlin and Gaius were working at their bench, crushing plants and rewriting vial labels. Gaius stood up. “Prince Arthur! What can I do for you? Are you suffering from an ailment?”

Arthur stiffened and self-consciously tried to put the arm of his wound behind his back. Gaius didn’t make any comment. “No, Gaius. I came to tell Merlin that I need him to come with me tomorrow. I also wanted to ask about her mother. I heard she was sick.”

Gaius looked very surprised by Arthur’s question. Was he usually such a boorish person that the usually well-mannered, deferential physician would not think he’d ask about his servant’s ill mother?

“Merlin can tell you better than me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to bring the lady Morgana’s medicine.”

And with that, he left the room.

Arthur threw a pointed glance at Merlin.

“She, ah, she’s better now. She’s... recovering, in Ealdor,” the raven-haired boy finally answered. Then, after a brief pause, “Where are we going tomorrow?”

“We’re investigating a druid camp.”

“A... druid camp. Alright.”

“What, are you afraid?” Arthur teased him.

“No, it’s not that.”

“That’s what you pretend, but I know you, Merlin. You can’t hide anything from me.”

Merlin snorted, but didn’t reply.

“Which is why I know you’re actually terrified of magic,” Arthur said. “And also your own shadow. And birds. And... everything, really. But mostly magic.”

“Are you sure you’re not sick? Why would I be afraid of magic?”

“We’ve faced a lot of problems caused by magic! In less than a year, I bet you’ve seen more magic than in your entire li-” Arthur started. But then, he remembered scenes happening in front of his eyes: a whirlwind, two peasant boys, an arrow, a funeral pyre.

Whoops.

“... You realised how stupid it was while you were saying it, right?” Merlin said.

“... No?”

“Oh, so very much yes.”

“Not at all! Besides, my point stands. Will was a childhood friend. I bet you wouldn’t be so brave in front of a real sorcerer. Like Emrys, for instance.”

Merlin snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Wait a second.

No, that was silly.

He would never... Would he? He wasn’t stupid enough...

Probably not, Arthur decided. But just in case, just in case Merlin _was_ stupid enough, Arthur had to do something. To intimidate him somehow.

“Merlin. I will only say it once. If you have any survival instinct, you will do whatever you can to avoid him, at all costs. I don’t want to know whether you’ve seen him, or helped him in the past, whatever your reasons were. I know he looks like he’s been helping the people of Camelot, but don’t be fooled, he’s an enemy of the kingdom, and so is anyone who helps him. Am I being clear?”

Merlin’s gaze had darkened. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES GUYS! And girls. And everyone else.
> 
> I finally have a real chapter plan, instead of a bunch of ideas that managed to stay consistent through means I have yet to fully understand. 
> 
> I don’t think the relationship between the Old Religion and magic has been explained in detail in the series, so here’s my headcanon: the Old Religion based its interpretation on what magic users (Priests) understood of the world through the use of magic. Whether its gods are real, sentient, divine beings or actually just manifestations of magic power is up to debate, but it bears little influence on the rest of the story. The only thing it means is that there’s no need to follow the Old Religion or pray to the Old Gods to use magic. Which also explains why High Priests are always quite ceremonious when performing magic, while Merlin isn’t. 
> 
> Also, Arthur can leave the castle now! Will Arthur finally stop being the Red Knight and resume hunting monsters as himself? WHO KNOWS? 
> 
> (I do. I have _the plan_ now.)


	17. Chapter 17

The moonlight spilling from the tiny window was just enough to let him distinguish everything in his small room. Merlin was lying awake in his bed, dressed in his night clothes, fully aware he would regret every minute he didn’t spend asleep and yet unable to close the eye and put his mind to rest.

Arthur was determined to kill him, and everyone else like him.

They were about to raid a druid camp and Arthur didn’t even seem bothered by it. But worse than that – he wanted Emrys dead. Emrys, the secret sorcerer protecting the realm and the destiny of Albion from the shadows. The Once and Future King’s shield against his enemies. The one who had saved the life of the golden prince countless times already.

Or, as he preferred to be called, Merlin.

He sighed for the thousandth time. Or maybe more, since he had lost count. How was Arthur supposed to accept the good magic could do to the realm? Was the thrice-damned dragon absolutely certain Merlin was the right warlock, and Arthur the right prince? He fought the impulse to pay his old advisor a visit under the dungeons. He had sworn he wouldn’t ask him anything else. The dragon was too dangerous anyway. Instead, he focused on his problems once more.

Arthur had been perfectly clear indeed. He suspected Merlin of helping Emrys out of misplaced starry-eyed optimism and faith in Emrys’ good intentions. And he had apparently decided not to act on it, even though he seemed determined to kill Emrys at all costs.

Oh, right. It wouldn’t do to have a member of the royal household, the prince’s own manservant, executed for high treason and cooperation with known enemies of the kingdom. The people would laugh at Arthur. Uther would be furious against his son too, for allowing such a thing to happen or any similar reason. Of course Arthur didn’t want to reveal Merlin’s involvement to anyone.

Groaning, he shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. Alright. He was used to this now. He just had to prioritise. First problem to come is the first to be solved with as much secrecy as possible and as little magic as possible. The druid camp. Maybe he could... disrupt the weather? Hide the druids in shadows? Or maybe he could try to warn them some time in advance by calling them in his head if he was close enough. He had never really tried telepathy, but it might just work if his ridiculously powerful magic decided to cooperate. For the rest, he would have to wait and see.

Having found a bit of quiet, he decided to forget about his problems for a moment and let sleep claim him. He would need it.

* * *

It was the sound that woke Arthur up. Not the noise and clatter of a poorly balanced tray, but the soft, almost inaudible movements of someone who knew how to go unnoticed.

An assassin.

A weight was set on his chest.

He bolted, catching the arm of a man in his left hand, eyes still blinking in protest against the sudden brightness they had to face.

After a second, he realised what was wrong. The man was familiar.

“... George?!”

“Forgive me, my Lord. Merlin,” the servant said, pronouncing the name in the same tone he’d use to talk about some sticky, gooey, impossible to remove stain on a gold cup.

“Merlin what?” Arthur asked. George had yet to choose how to formulate his version of the story.

“Merlin was nowhere to be found this morning, so I took the initiative of bringing you your breakfast, my Lord. Is everything to your convenience?” he asked in a polite, neutral tone, as if Arthur wasn’t still holding his arm in a tight grip.

“... Yes, George, it’s fine,” he said, quickly letting go of the servant’s arm.

The breakfast was of course fit for three kings feasting in a harvest banquet, as every meal served by George tended to be. Which explained why the tray had felt so heavy on his chest.

Arthur decided he deserved some of the extra food and ate his fill. Sadly, he would never be able to eat all that, but he wanted to give it a try anyway.

Meanwhile, George was tidying up a bit. As in, actually tidying up, not putting the piles of dirty clothes and parchment where no one could see them.

As he was about to open the cupboard, Arthur decided to stop him. Unlike Merlin, George would quickly notice the red cape. Not that anyone other than Emrys had ever seen the Red Knight from up close, but he’d better be safe rather than sorry. “That’ll be all, George.”

For a brief second, the servant looked almost insulted to be stopped in his work, but he quickly gave himself a composure and left with a bow.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t Merlin be this efficient?

Speaking of which, had the utter fool forgotten that for the first time in months, Arthur was being sent on a real mission by the king himself? Could he be that stupid?

After concluding that yes, he very much could, Arthur left his bed and went to prepare himself for the ride.

A few moments later, he was pounding on Gaius’ door.

The old physician opened the door. “Prince Arthur,” he greeted. “Is everything alright?”

“Where’s Merlin?”

“He left already, Sire. I thought he’d be with you now.”

“I’ve yet to see him this morning.”

“Have you tried the stables?”

Actually, he hadn’t. He’d come straight to the physician’s chambers, certain he’d find Merlin still asleep in his bed, as usual, but it seemed the elusive servant had decided to send him on a wild goose chase moments before their planned departure.

Perfect.

When he arrived at the stables, Merlin, surprisingly, was there, looking like nothing was wrong.

“Merlin!” Arthur bellowed.

The younger boy dropped whatever he was holding, startled, and turned to face Arthur.

“Hi Arthur!”

“Say, Merlin, what are you doing here?”

“Preparing the horses?”

“Why would you prepare the horses before I’m even ready to go?”

“Aren’t you ready to go? You’re wearing your jacket and everything.” Merlin said and paused. “Do you need your armour?” he asked.

“Yes, Merlin, I am ready to go. No thanks to my personal manservant, who for some reason decided to disappear this morning instead of doing the one job he has.”

“I have two jobs! I’m also working for Gaius and fetching herbs whenever I’m not with you running after something in the woods!”

“Then do your two jobs or you might find yourself with none! Now get on your horse, we’re leaving!” Arthur angrily replied.

* * *

What had actually happened had to be a huge misunderstanding. Merlin had asked a castle maid to send George to wake Arthur up. Moments before Arthur had come to find him in the stables, a stable hand had told him the maid asked him to tell Merlin that George had left with his usual pompous air, carrying a platter fit for the prince. George must have decided to bring Arthur his breakfast after seeing that Merlin was nowhere to be found. A good initiative, but perhaps George should learn not to make assumptions about his fellow servants in front of noblemen.

If that was what actually happened. Merlin wouldn’t put it past Arthur to be grouchy if his favourite target for tin dishware throwing was unavailable in the morning.

In any case, now they were riding in silence, and both of them looked angry (and, quite frankly, a bit haughty), but Merlin knew they were both miserable. Despite Arthur’s (many, many) flaws, he was not too bad and the two of them had become friends. Constantly saving each other’s lives tends to do that.

“Why aren’t we going with any soldier?” Merlin asked to break the silence.

“What?”

“We’re going to a druid camp, right? Why aren’t we going with soldiers?”

“The druids aren’t there any longer. They fled before we could catch them, so I’m only exploring the camp to see if they left anything strategic behind.”

“What sort of strategic thing?”

“Plans, objects of magic, artifacts, secrets...” Arthur said.

“And what if they didn’t?”

“The king doesn’t expect much of this, but it is a mission and I’ll take it.”

“It’s been a while, huh?” Merlin said.

“Excuse me?” Arthur blurted out. “Uh, ah, yes, I haven’t been sent on a mission outside the castle walls in some time.”

After a few moments in a much more comfortable silence, Merlin heard a whisper, barely audible, forming words he couldn’t identify. He quickly looked around him to locate the origin of the sound, to no avail.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, an eyebrow raised, as if in disbelief from Merlin’s antics.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“Merlin, we’re in the middle of a forest. You heard an animal. I told you, the druids are long gone. Come now.”

_Em... rys..._

Oh.

At least one druid was still here.

_Leave! Please leave or hide now! The prince is coming!_ Merlin thought as hard as he could. But he had never really tried to project his thoughts. He couldn’t know if the druid had heard him.

_Emrys..._ , the voice repeated.

_Please..._ , Merlin tried again. With no answer.

“Merlin.”

Arthur’s voice startled Merlin and brought him back to reality.

“Really now?”

“Yes, Merlin, now. We’re here. So unless you want to keep going and lose your way...”

“Alright, I’m coming.”

The camp was indeed empty. Even for a tracking novice such as Merlin, it was plainly obvious no one had been here in days. No scent of smoke to suggest a fire, and the ashes from the last one had long been dispersed by the wind or diluted in the dirt by the water of a morning mist. Some tents remained, as well as drapes and sheets hung with forgotten ropes, but slightly flattened squares of grass showed where more tents had been.

Arthur was already seeing all this, but it didn’t stop him from starting to explore the camp. Merlin, on the other hand, was looking around himself, trying to see if the mysterious druid was anywhere.

He decided to follow Arthur before the prince of prats could find the way to startle him again. They wandered in the abandoned camp for a while. Arthur lifting up blankets and examining marks. The druids had left almost no items behind: a wooden bowl here, a pile of colourful ribbons there. Only once did Merlin hear the voice again, calling him in a warm tone: _Welcome, Emrys._

Half an hour later, they were done and Arthur called the time to get back to Camelot. They turned back and started walking towards the side of the camp where the horses had been left.

They could only walk a few steps before an old crone appeared out of thin air. She was leaning on a wooden stick, with a wide, sincere smile on her wrinkled face. Her clothing was unusual: brightly coloured robes attached with a simple cord intertwined with flowers and herbs. A few daisies were braided into her pure, silver-white hair. Her bare arms showed the unmistakable triskelion tattoo, exposing her as a druid.

“Hello, dears,” she said.

Arthur immediately tensed at Merlin’s side. “Who are you?” he asked. Weird. Merlin would have half-expected him to at least take his sword in hand, and perhaps run her through where she stood.

“How lucky am I to find two well-mannered, literate fine men in front of me! Even luckier, when the time of the prophecy comes closer.”

“The what?” Merlin asked.

“The prophecy, my boy,” she answered, looking straight into his eyes. _I’m so glad to finally meet you, Emrys,_ the voice he’d been hearing since his arrival said in his head. He realised this voice was hers.

“I’ve never heard of a prophecy,” Merlin quickly said with pleading eyes. He was desperately trying to concentrate on a plea for her not to reveal anything about him so soon.

“It is a tale that is passed from generation to generation among my people. The prophecy of Emrys.” _Emrys, are you scared?_

“What does it say?” Arthur asked, suddenly interested.

_Do not worry. The Once and Future King will not hurt you._

“One day, the most powerful magic user to walk the earth will come. He shall find and protect the Once and Future King, who will unite the kingdoms of Albion and bring forth an era of peace among men. When the time of Albion comes, the people of magic shall be freed from their torments and walk in the day again.”

“You are aware magic is forbidden in Camelot, aren’t you?”

“It is now, my Lord.”

“And do you happen to know the identity of this One Future King or this Emrys?”

“Yes, I do,” she said, glancing alternately between Merlin and Arthur as if answering to both.

In a panic, Merlin tried to shake his head as discreetly as he could.

_I will do as you wish, Emrys. But I think the two of you should not keep secrets from each other. It will only drive you apart._

“But I believe you are not ready to hear it yet. Maybe one day Emrys will reveal more. Have a pleasant day, my Lords.”

And without another word, she vanished. The only indication that she had been there was a blue iris flower located exactly where she had stood, when moments ago there was only trampled grass around.

“... What did just happen?” Merlin asked in a desperate attempt to add levity to the situation.

The situation being, of course, the aftermath of a conversation with a druid who casually revealed The Prophecy to Arthur, without actually telling him anything important, and even more casually dropping the name of Emrys, who was currently Arthur’s number one target and an enemy of the kingdom.

“Merlin,” Arthur said slowly. “If you value your life, if the continuation of your existence even remotely matters to you, you will never, _ever_ , tell a soul what happened here.”

Of course. Merlin didn’t have to try very hard to see this from Arthur’s point of view. The prince knew a sorcerer named Emrys was working with a knight, who seemed supportive of magic (he couldn’t know Red had been wary of Merlin’s magic from the start). He knew said sorcerer had been declared an enemy of the kingdom, and now he also knew Emrys was supposed to protect the next king. From there, anyone would assume Emrys would overthrow the Pendragons for the sake of the Once and Future king.

And a druid prophecy foretelling the end of the Pendragon line would bring unrest in the people. It might even give those Uther had wronged an incentive to openly act against the crown. Other kingdoms would quickly be much less willing to seem allied with the Pendragons, if word spread that another dynasty was to take over soon.

“Even to the king. Lie to him if you must, but never tell _anyone_.”

“Alright.”

“This is serious, Merlin.”

“Yes, I know. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

As they went to the horses and prepared to leave, Merlin wondered why would Arthur forbid him from telling the king about it. Unlike the rest, it made little sense. This seemed like something he’d want Uther to know. Unless... Unless he thought Uther would execute Merlin to keep the secret safe. The king had always been ruthless, his judgements were often based on circumstantial evidence and his laws were often harsh, but he always followed them to the letter. On the other hand, Uther had shown little regard for the lives of peasants before, and Merlin knew the king was entirely dedicated to the kingdom’s stability and power. And silencing Merlin, who was well known for his carelessness, was an easy sacrifice. In other words, it was hard to predict what Uther would do, even for Arthur.

Sighing, Merlin clumsily hopped on his horse. The one good thing from this situation, though, was that despite Arthur’s willingness to capture and execute Emrys, his consideration showed he didn’t agree with some of his father’s harshest decisions. Which was better than nothing.

* * *

During the ride back to Camelot, Arthur kept thinking about the druidess. So Emrys was supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, and there he was, fighting monsters with some “wandering knight” in a red cape. Why would he even do that? Didn’t he have other matters to attend to, like ‘find and protect the Future King of All or whatever?

In any case, if anyone, especially the king, ever learnt of the prophecy, Emrys and Red would be hunted more than ever. The king would lead the search himself, because it was easy to assume the Red Knight and the Future King of that prophecy were the same person.

Wait.

Future King.

As the crown prince, Arthur _was_ a future King.

Did Emrys know? Had he tracked Arthur as a potential Future King of the prophecy?

Impossible. Right?

Except Emrys was the strongest sorcerer to ever live. He could use magic. He probably even knew what was hidden under the Red Knight’s helmet!

Which meant... Was Arthur the king of the prophecy? Was it why Emrys was fighting monsters alongside him?

Something was wrong with this theory, though. If Emrys really knew who was the Red Knight, why did he still think ‘prince Arthur’ was trying his hardest to arrest them? He’d recently accused ‘Red’ of still being in contact with Arthur. It would make no sense to say it.

Besides, Emrys was already working for a nobleman. It would make more sense for him to keep an eye on the Future King every day, rather than only when there was a monster in one of the most anti-magic kingdoms of Albion.

...

Arthur needed to be sure. But he couldn’t just casually reveal his identity to Emrys. If the sorcerer didn’t know who Red was, and was planning to bring a different dynasty on the throne, Arthur wasn’t sure Emrys wouldn’t just get rid of him. Not that Emrys had been untrustworthy so far (unlike himself, he thought, remembering his most recent foolish decision), but there was still a risk.

Lost in thought, he only noticed they were back in the citadel when his horse stopped on his own next to Merlin’s one.

Repressing a sigh, he looked up at his chambers’ windows and saw a black-haired woman standing there. Morgana.

In a daze, he practically threw his reins at Merlin for him to take care of the horses and climbed the front door stairs in a dash. Morgana had to know. She was a brilliant strategist: maybe she’d have an idea.

* * *

Arthur’s chambers were less of a mess than usual, even though Arthur's night clothes had been left on the floor. It was lucky George came in Arthur's chambers sometimes, because neither poor Merlin nor Arthur were good at tidying things. Morgana shook her head. These two would never change, would they?

Speaking of the boys, here they were at last. She watched from Arthur’s window as Merlin got down from his horse, while Arthur seemed distracted. Then the prince lifted his head and spotted her. This seemed to get him out of his trance. He hurriedly dismounted and ran in the front stairs.

She braced herself. At this speed, he would probably burst through his own doors in a few minutes, as he did when he was in a rush to do something. Morgana hoped he would one day learn to act in a more level-headed way when he had urgent matters to attend. She could notice he was able to mask his emotions and inner thoughts in front of court members (even though she was still able to decipher them with ease, having known him since forever), but when he was after something, he didn’t show the poise and dignity that was expected of a prince or a king.

As she was musing over Arthur’s passionate attitude, the prince confirmed her predictions and burst through his own doors.

“Morgana!” her adoptive brother called.

“Arthur,” she replied in a much calmer tone. “What drove you to such hurry?”

“I need your advice on an urgent matter.”

“Well, what is it?”

In a few words, he quickly explained the druidess, the prophecy, Emrys, the One Future King (she would gladly bet he remembered the title wrong, because he was Arthur).

She took a few seconds to think. This could change everything. She agreed with some of Arthur’s conclusions: of course, Uther could never hear of the prophecy.

Emrys’ motivations, however, were harder to analyse. It was unlikely that the sorcerer knew the Red Knight’s real identity, otherwise he would have behaved differently, in the goals of fully showing the prince how magic could be a force for good. At the moment, despite his openly helpful behaviour, his secretiveness was still hindering this goal, which probably meant he did not feel he had anything to prove to the Red Knight beside his own harmlessness.

She explained her reasoning to Arthur. “Arthur, if Emrys knew your identity, wouldn’t he try to show you the better side of magic?”

“What for? If he thinks the king of the prophecy will rule over the whole island, why would he care about the opinion of the prince of only one kingdom?”

“Because, assuming you are not the king of the prophecy, with your current views on magic you would be more likely to fight against this High King if he wants to restore magic.”

“As opposed to what? Giving Camelot over to a stranger?”

“Or allying yourself with him. If the lands of Albion face a great threat from over the seas, such as a war against Éire or the Saxons, an alliance under a single king could be the only way of saving our lands.”

“Are you saying this One King will come at a time of war?”

“I didn’t make the prophecies, but why would any of the other kings agree to choose a High King?”

“Perhaps you’re right. It’s a good thing I can discuss this with you,” Arthur said. “But I wonder. You said Emrys would show me the better side of magic. Isn’t that what he’s doing? Fighting monsters and all?”

“Indeed, but these are destructive uses of magic nonetheless,” she argued.

“That’s what magic does anyway.”

She frowned. “I don’t agree with you on this matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how I feel about magic,” she replied. Her numerous quarrels against Uther on the topic of magic were widely known in the castle. Everytime a sorcerer was executed, she would stalwartly defend her belief that magic could be used for more than destruction and chaos. That magic users could also help, heal, grow plants, and protect.

“Yes, Morgana, I know how you feel about magic” Arthur replied wearily. “Everyone in the castle must know how you feel about magic.”

“Then you must know it can be used for other things than destruction!” she insisted.

“I have yet to witness that.”

“That is exactly what I meant! If Emrys knew who you are, he would show you!”

“Unless you’re wrong about magic,” Arthur reminded her.

She sighed. “I do not think I alone can convince you on this matter. We should just agree to disagree. For now.”

“Fine,” Arthur said. “Anyway, what do you think I should do about Emrys?”

“You want to know whether he knows your identity, don’t you? And you want to know who’s the king of the prophecy. Then why don’t you just reveal your identity to him?”

Arthur winced. “It might not be the best moment to do this.”

Oh, come on. “Why? What did you do?” she asked, almost dreading the answer.

“I may have tried to look under his hood while he was asleep,” Arthur admitted sheepishly. “It didn’t work; he had an alarm spell.”

Morgana scowled. “You mean to say you thought it was a good idea to look under the hood of a well-prepared, powerful sorcerer who did everything he could to hide his identity, one which you threatened to kill as soon as he saved your life with magic? Arthur, I already knew you’re foolish, but I never imagined you could be that stupid.”

“I know, I know. I made a mistake.” Arthur grumbled.

“You can count yourself lucky that you’re not a green, slimy toad at the moment! If I had been in his position instead, you’d already be croaking and hopping in some pond halfway across Albion!”

“I _know_ , alright?” he snapped, then sighed “I’ll fix it. Now tell me, why were you waiting in my chambers?”

She suddenly remembered the reason of her presence here. “I had hoped to find you. Your father asked me to remind you that next week, the princess of the kingdom of Powys, in the Northern Plains, will be visiting Camelot. He wants you to make sure you make a good impression.” And with a smile, she left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur can never remember his title of Once and Future King correctly.
> 
> I think the chapter is a bit longer than usual. The next one might be shorter than usual, but I couldn't organize them differently. There's also more of Merlin’s POV this time, for obvious reasons. While Arthur suddenly hearing an old druid woman in his head would be fantastic, it’s sort of not in his skill set at all. Sorry folks, got my hands tied here. And finally, we get some Morgana POV!
> 
> Oh, and, um... “Uther forgot to tell you about the princess” actually means “The author forgot to write this in the last chapter”. Uther was supposed to mention it before giving Arthur his mission to explore the abandoned druid camp, but apparently I can’t read my own chapter descriptions properly.


End file.
